As if injected with a shot containing a little bit of everything, I feel revived, swimming in a pool of contentment, tranquility and a feeling usually unknown to me: at rest. After nearly three weeks inactivity, I must take a day off to reset back into camping, fires and bread baking.
Uruguayan music channel on television shows attractive women insufficient dressed, out to rape their overjoyed boyfriends. These boyfriends like to be ravaged by their pretty ladies in bikini, who, in between actions, cook meals. A healthy plate of food where the guy’s pistol is delicately placed next to. After the meal the pistol is tucked into the back of his belt, a shirt pulled over. Another so-called sexy scene arrives, where the bikini clad girl compete over attention with the pistol.
In blogs you probably don’t read how boring a country can be. Experiences must be great, exhilarating and fantastic. Not on this blog. Uruguay has me waking up in the mornings thinking how I can make this day a memorable one. I have to come up with my own ideas to have something like, still far removed from, an exciting experience in Uruguay.
When I ask people where it is beautiful in natural surroundings, they slowly shrug up their shoulders, their eyes start looking into their minds cabinet, and they come up with no real answer. When I trow ‘Tucuarembo’ in, they reply with a lukewarm ‘yeah, it’s hilly there’ or ‘that is the real Uruguay still, with gaucho’s’ or ‘the road to there is 200 kilometer with nothing’.
So, what precisely is a micro climate? People told me it is pristine out here, how pure is that? And how exactly does Patagonia looks like? Carretera Austral, everyone who has been to Patagonia talks about it.
For some occult reason I had given my dad a woolen thermal shirt, woolen socks and a fleece sleeping bag liner when he visited me in the Atacama desert.
I am a comfort junkie. I don’t mind, and still be happy, without a shower preceding the number of 14 days.