Ever been in a line up?

Not the one at school when they pick teams for a football match.

I’m number five, my host was three and his brother four with the last guy claiming one, its paint more faded than the others symbolizing an obvious favorite for most.

The squeak of rust on metal forces my back to straighten and my eyes to focus on the dark glass ahead of me. In a faceless void I can just make out the outline of a masculine chin before hearing a typical voice of a ‘Boludo’ with only one thing on his mind.

Catch the guy that broke his nose.

How the f*** did I get here?

“Don’t speak any English”, number three whispers in my ear.

Apparently I had agreed to help my host’s brother after returning home drunk from a night out.

I didn’t know at the time it was going to be the real deal.

My hosts in Buenos Aires Alvaro and Julio where both studying law so I presumed it was some kind of role play for their degree. Yet entering the Supreme Court, being escorted into a prison with numerous big gates slamming shut behind me I started to question how many beers I’d consumed to have made such an agreement.

A drop of sweat rolls off my head, a second voice is now talking behind the wall,  I can’t understand, all I know is if I hear the word “cinco” I’m fucked.

What I did know was that the guy who committed the crime wasn’t a number in this room, I had nothing to fear, just a typical day out you know, helping a friend that’s all.

The two voices combined to form a deep concern before fading to the sound of rust on metal again. A clipboard enters; her notes are useless in a courtroom, I’m free.

Nice farewell memory of Argentina. I get robbed and later find myself as the accused. I’d expect nothing less in South America, guess that’s why I love it so much.

My time with Alvaro, a legend host helped me remember what I set out to do and forget all the minor negative experiences. I was sad to leave as always yet my farewells seem to be getting colder nowadays because the truth is the only thing us nomads can really hold on to is our sanity to survive in a world constantly out to put you back in your bowl. I love you Alvaro thanks for all.

Catching the super smooth direct ferry from Buenos Aires to Montevideo within three hours I was in Uruguay’s capital and my seventeenth country so far. Uncle (Runcles) still remained super cool about another surfing experience, too cool in-fact; I sensed a new profile on the horizon.

The keen cook that I am, I decided to recently invest in a plastic box to store my much needed spices which I normally leave behind with a host. It’s pricey to keep re-buying and this was a handy money saver I’d learnt from the many Israelis I’ve met, the masters of cheap travel. I was a little worried how Ground Coriander and Garam Masala wrapped in sealer bags would translate on the immigration X- ray machine.  Nobody seemed to bat an eyelid, yet strangely my other travel buddy Ryan who was queuing behind me was taken into an office for an intense bag search, maybe even a finger in the hole, who knows but Ryan?  I loved ‘my precious’ curry powders way too much to say anything and favored instead to wait outside where I was greeted by a big smiley face and my 91st Official host Martin Martinez (MARTINW).

New to couchsurfing Martin was anxious to entertain his first ever hosts and what better time is there than Christmas to enjoy the company of others. Hunting for a cheaper priced taxi than the ones parked outside the harbor we walked through the colonial small downtown built by the Spanish in the 18th Century as a military stronghold rather than a city of elegance with the utmost care to detail such as Madrid or Valencia.  That’s not to say the city lacks character however, sometimes the beaten walls and chipped pavements reminisced a tone from ‘ The Piano’ yet suddenly the skies would open up spreading a golden cascade of warmth to dance through the streets like Baloo and Mowgli’s jungle jive. It felt like a city worn from the hardships of its occupants with half the counties entire population now living in and around the capital. What you see is what you get. There seemed to be no mystery and dodgy doings in the city and according to Transparency International, Uruguay is the least corrupt country in Latin America along with Chile with its political and labor conditions being among the freest on the continent.  Just what I needed after my nightmare in Argentina! Martin was exceptionally warm and friendly and I wasn’t concerned about walking the streets with all my bags. I had felt somewhat trapped and out of place in Argentina and looked upon as the enemy. In Uruguay I felt accepted again, a people proud of obtaining independence in 1825- 1828 during a three-way struggle between Spain, Argentina and Brazil. It was odd to suddenly discover I wasn’t the only one who seemed to have beef with Argentina. There’s a huge neighborhood rivalry between the countries, the general consensus that Argentineans think they are above and more powerful than Uruguayans and like to think that Uruguay belongs to Argentina along with all its beaches which are over run with thousands of Argentinean license plates during the summer breaks.  The people of Uruguay are far too laidback and friendly to want to bicker over such things and have come to enjoy the steady economic growth and tourism sprouted by their rivals. “Mucha’s Gracias Boludo”!

I was slightly apprehensive about the three of us impeding upon Martins family so close to Christmas yet it didn’t seem to bother them, his wonderful mother even offered to cook us a traditional Uruguayan barbecue on our first evening, ‘Asado’ now refraining to pork ribs rather than a mixture of meats. It was a delightful welcome and we all felt completely at home, I could now relax and look forward to Christmas with family again.

The following evening Runcles and I joined Martin for his works Christmas Party at the house of his boss. Everyone was so welcoming and happy to communicate in English making it easier for my uncle to participate in conversation.  After all an estimated ninety four percent of the population here are mostly of European descent. Even though my Spanish has improved the one thing that I miss most about my language is making jokes. I used to think I was a funny guy back home but for the last two years I’ve barely had a chance to crack a one liner without everyone thinking I’m a right Tw*T!

A pattern had formed. My experiences in Latin America have led me to believe that the countries with less tourism often tend to be the ones with the best hospitality. The locals seem thrilled and genuinely pleased to meet you and want to know about the place we call home and have yet to be strongly manipulated from the growing western trends even though I believe there should be a McDonalds on every street corner regardless of what the bickers say, quarter pounders will solve any stomach bug much faster than medicine. After a delightful Asado I was treated to my first glass of Uruguay’s famous drink ‘Medio Y Medio’, a kind of pink cheap fizzy cider wine bringing back memories of being drunk on the streets at fourteen years old. “Two bottles of mad dog and a litre of Merrydown please”!

The weekend kicked off in full swing with a local cs meeting, yet another giant Asado. I must admit since Paraguay all I seem to be eating for the past four months is meat? No wonder the old ticker is beating so fast. Runcles wasn’t complaining however, he looked well relaxed with too young girls on each arm and a tasty burger in each hand. The couchsurfer’s loved the fact that my Uncle was surfing with me and all wanted to hear his story instead of mine pushing me to the sidelines in search of the handsome wise one with the grayish beard. It was great to see Runcles having so much fun and totally embrace the cs spirit.

Ryan however was too busy falling asleep in the street and getting robbed. That’s right folks; all three of us musketeers have now been the victim of a crime, I couldn’t believe Ryan was so careless as to fall asleep drunk in the street holding his camera. I reckon the robber probably took his photo with an unconscious Ryan just to test his brand new toy. Nice one brother.

Back in Buenos Aires I had met Anita at the Creamfields Festival who lived in Montevideo. I was excited to meet again downtown at the popular plaza during the build up to Christmas. The square was packed with locals, gringos, straw hats and skimpy carnival costumes all smothered with a deafening tone hanging like a single cloud raining excitement on the thirsty mouths below. I knew the dangers of getting too close to Anita yet we both felt an uncontrollable attraction for each other and before the day’s end embraced with a kiss straight from a romantic movie, the only difference being was our moonlit background was actually the public toilets but eyes closed who cares right?

Suddenly I found myself in a complicated predicament. My feelings for Anita grew stronger each day and I wanted to spend the little time I had in Uruguay with her as well as time with my uncle and Ryan and host Martin. It’s been over a year since I felt in love with a woman and two years since I’ve been with family and now I found myself having to juggle between the two. I admit traveling for so long can be lonely and when an opportunity arises to spend time with an attractive young women who shares so much in common with me then I have no choice but to surrender my soul even though I know I have to leave at some point. This is something I never really contemplated when I left home and it’s impossible to imagine I could ever meet someone who could join me traveling for so long or wait for me to finish. So what do I do? The same as any other man I suppose, act now think later. I had overstepped the emotional barrier the first time I laid eyes on Ana and found myself caught in a tractor beam being pulled closer to the death star, my Lightsaber fully extended all the while my Yoda screaming to me to ‘use the force’ and turn away now while I still have the chance. I’ve never been a great listener.

That’s when things started to get complicated. I was spending less time with Ryan and Runcles and host Martin and more time pursuing my thirst to feel the touch of a hand on my skin, lips on my mouth, hair through my fingers. Like best friends we trusted each other with everything, talking through the night and only stopping to watch a heroic sunrise pierce open a new day we were so thankful to share together. I could stay here I thought? But then again am I ready to give up on my dream? If I wasn’t hidebound I’d say yes but the greater part of me isn’t yet ready to settle.

It’s amazing how lost you can be when your life is suddenly flipped upside down and your staring into the eyes of an endless possibility. Anita filled me full of zest again but at the same time distracted me from my project and social circle. I felt bad for my host Martin who watched me come and go from his house like it was some kind of hostel. Ryan and Runcles formed their own alliance with Martin enjoying nights out without me and returning with stories I couldn’t relate to. My standards of respect began to slip. Martins mum was uncomfortable with me having my feet up on the living room table whilst watching TV, of course I should have known this but my head was truly in the clouds.

The guys also commented on my expensive taste for food and decided it’s probably best we all fend for ourselves rather than have me cook and split the money. The more things seemed to go wrong the more time I’d spend running to Anita, my savor, my secret door to loves limbo. I felt trapped, too afraid to choose sides and scared of the thought of being alone again even though I’ve spent two years by myself on the road. It was obvious I needed to be loved, just long enough to feel human again, part of someone real rather than a promise two people can’t maintain through email. Each moment brought us closer together yet further away from reality, every doubt intercepted with the hope that love will guide the way and all will be okay.

To celebrate Christmas Eve the three of us joined Anita for the traditional gathering downtown back at Mercado Del Puerto, this time however the whole square was packed jammed with flying bottles of Medio Y Medio and drunken voices chanting the local lullabies. Anita thought best we avoid the crowd and head to the safer, less hectic ‘Ciudad Veija’, where I enjoyed my first ‘Chivito’ a national tasty sandwich. Montevideo doesn’t have a dangerous reputation however any drunken crowd with access to glass bottles is worth steering clear of.

My host family prepared a huge feast to celebrate the night of Christmas Eve and my Fathers birthday upon the roof top of the house. Another giant Asado which was by far one of the best I’ve had followed by an ambitious firework display throughout the entire city seemed like an excellent way to commemorate midnight. Christmas isn’t about the presents anymore, it never was. The real gift is to have people who love you and who you can trust not what’s inside the big mystery box. This was my third Christmas on the road and I was truly blessed to yet again enjoy a family atmosphere. All of Martins brothers and sisters made us feel like part of the family and his mum treated me as one of her own. But to top it all, I had my uncle with me celebrating fond memories of my father and our shared adventure which was so far so good. 

During the New Year almost everyone in Latin America takes their vacations and heads to the beach. Anita offered to drive the three of us for a ten day tour of Uruguay’s coastline. Martin offered us a tent due to limited surfers in the intended areas we wished to visit however I did manage to find us a couch in our first destination Punta Del Este.

One of Uruguay’s most popular tourist places packed with rich old and young and the occasional celebrity, Punta wasn’t exactly a backpacker’s dream destination and would be hard on the budget no doubt. My 92nd Official Host Magela Pribaz (MAGELA) was the only surfer in town and was able to host all four of us but for a small fee of ten dollars per person per night. This was the first time I’d been asked to pay using couchsurfing however it was much cheaper than the hundred dollar a night hotel rooms and over priced hostels. And how often do you get to sleep in your own miniature tree house with an awesome view of the night sky and one of the best nights kip ever? Magela’s partner Joseph had built the tree house from scratch for couples like I and Anita whilst my uncle and Ryan where treated to their very own guestroom beside the house.

Magela and her family were one of my most memorable so far. Her son was so well behaved and streetwise that one couldn’t help appreciate his innocent vision of life and respect for others, like a wise old man trapped in a young man’s body. A budding dj also, he immediately took to my energy like a long lost brother, following me and Anita around the house and accompanying us for lunch. A taste of family life, something I hadn’t really considered when I handed over the keys to my house. Quite the opposite actually, I wanted to avoid the typical mid life cycle of thinking she was the one, moving in together, evade boredom and secure trust in each other by having the baby we made after a few too many rubies down the pub, have a second baby so the first one has someone to play with whilst mummy and daddy are stacking up empty pint glasses at the bar and then finally get married cause that’s what your meant to do right? What’s left then? Stretch marks, veracious veins, cupboards full of empty headache and sleeping pill bottles, the foul stench of nappies slowly evaporating into a full grown pain in the ass that will never be satisfied with you working all week to try and keep up with the joneses. Fook that, kids are really cool when you don’t have to take them home. Bitter, but the sweet truth!

With two kids to feed and a self employed income of selling homemade jewelry, I respected Magela’s decision to charge surfers to stay. Punta is a seasonal city and the economic crisis has had a huge impact on her business. I helped Joseph prepare some pickled vegetables which he sells to the local community for extra income, anything to earn a buck or too was their motto and finding ways to save money was key to their survival. Both children hadn’t been spoilt with the same luxuries as the local rich kids but they did have something much greater. A family with strong values on life that understands the hardship of putting food on the table and having a roof over ones head. The whole family spoke openly to one another and rules were replaced with respect and honesty.

We spent our last evening with our hosts celebrating the New Year and my Mother’s birthday watching the coast of Punta light up in a magnificent firework display from the beach. It had been my hardest year on the road for sure, yet I had overcome the challenges set before me, was still on route to achieving my interminable dream and continued to maintain a sanguine spirit. As the saying goes ‘What doesn’t break you, makes you’.

A sad farewell and the four of us headed further East along the coastline to a packed out campsite in the popular party place of ‘La Paloma’. After a four hour queue to enter the campsite we struggled to erect our tent in the dark before finally settling to yet another Asado with some locals we met during our wait.  Everything seemed fine I thought!

Yet as the days passed Runcles and Ryan became more distant obviously wanting to give myself and Ana time alone. Runcles didn’t take too well to his first camping experience and had troubles sleeping on the hard floor and Ryan simply refused to sleep in the tent favoring instead to get drunk and fall asleep wherever he could. I and Ana would return to the campsite in the early hours from a disco as Runcles was waking to start the day so our agendas would often clash. I was trying to juggle too many things together and was losing balance and perspective. Runcles decided to head back to Montevideo with my host Martin with Ryan following a few days later after an argument we had at the campsite which led to us all being kicked out. Ryan said some rather nocuous things believing I had changed and was selfish for spending more time with Anita than my uncle. He was right to a point yet nobody can understand how it feels to be alone so long then to suddenly find someone you can really trust. I believe in living the moment and I was doing just that. I and Anita decided to continue our planned adventure and meet with the guys back at the capital. I had serious doubts about traveling with anybody after this experience; I work better alone and think clearer by myself.

I shared some memorable and romantic moments with Anita visiting some of Uruguay’s most precious locations such as the remote beach village of ‘Cabo Polonio’ which is only accessible by obscure giant sand transporters which look like they have been assembled with pieces of a rollercoaster. What really impressed me more than the beaches and places we visited were the skies of Uruguay. The land is so flat that the colors of the suns descent spill out over the immensity of light blue merging slowly to the earth’s rotation spiraling orange into ambers causing violets to fuse with reds before purples digest the light until only diamonds glisten to the peace of the night.

Having to leave the campsite early we decided to head back to Magela’s for a few days to freshen our backs after sleeping in the car. Magela was more than happy to host us again and it was nice to meet another surfer traveling with his father Marcio who lives in Rio, a destination I was heading too. He offered to host me once I arrived which was a great help because finding hosts in a big city is always a daunting task especially during the carnival which is when I planned to be there.

When we finally made it back to Montevideo, my uncle had already returned to Buenos Aires where Alvaro had kindly left him the keys to his apartment. Runcles had officially become a professional couchsurfer now and was safely on route back to the USA. I felt angry at myself for not utilizing the time we had together but he told me he understood about my situation with Anita and would have done the same given the chance. Men are needy of love no matter how tough you pretend to be. We like to cradled, need to be controlled and want to feel safe. And as much as women can be a pain in the ass they really are the solvers of all men’s concerns, as well as good food! Especially Anita’s mums “Noquis, which stole my heart. Check out the recipe online.

http://www.couchsurfingtheworld.com/index.php?option=com_ricettario&func=detail&Itemid=55&id=29

Driving to the bus terminal with Anita on my last day I had mixed emotions. As we passed the famous Centenario football stadium which hosted the first ever world cup final back in 1930 Anita explained that Uruguay went on to win the competition defeating Argentina 4-2 in the final, the smallest country, population wise to win the world cup. Uruguay then went on to win the hosts Brazil again 2 – 1 in the 1950 Fifa World Cup. It seems anything is possible in this world. Uruguayans are said to be a depressed nation yet from my experience I felt only big hearts all around. My only sadness was waving a ‘notgood’ bye to the reddened eyes of Anita who had been the heart and soul of my Uruguay experience sharing her passion and vision for her beloved country as well as a soul mate I could trust with all my heart.

Nomadic lifestyle hey! Does this mean I’ll be alone forever? I hope not cause what’s life if it can’t be shared.