CHAPTER 46
The Rio de la Plata is the widest river in the world. At its official discharge into the Atlantic it is over 140 miles from shore to shore. Looking at a map though, you would be hard pressed to label it a river, and indeed, some experts on the subject disagree with the designation. The Rio forms a huge wedge shaped inlet, cutting into the fairly regular east coast of South America between Uruguay to the north, and Argentina to the south, tapering down to a 1 mile wide point where the Uruguay and Parana rivers meet. It could more appropriately be labeled a gulf, based on its size and shape and the fact that it’s direction of flow and water level are controlled by tides, rather than the influx of water from its tributary rivers. But it does act as a river in the sense that it is an estuary, a huge 180 mile long layered cake of fresh, brackish, and salty water.
Whatever you chose to call it, Kacey and I were about to cross this mighty body of water, albeit at a relatively narrow 45 mile wide section between Buenos Aires and a charming colonial town on the Uruguayan coast, aptly named Colonia. Taking the express ferry from BA, the voyage only lasts about an hour, and though Kacey had been there before, we were both eager to explore it together. Up until this point on our trip, we had intrepidly stepped foot into 16 different countries, and we weren’t going to let lucky number 17 pass us by. I can never get over the novelty of entering into a new country. There is something surreal about crossing that imaginary line called a border- all of a sudden finding yourself in the presence of a new culture, with new people, with new laws, with new money, all based on a new history.
In the case of Uruguay though, or at least the small portion of it that I saw, it was actually quite comparable to Argentina- which made sense. In this case, Uruguay and Argentina shared a history up until the early 19th century when they both broke from Spanish rule, and like the majority of countries that border one another in Latin America, their similarities far outweigh their differences. Colonia turned out to be a sleepy, cobblestoned little town, with a relaxed atmosphere and an abundance of old cars- much like the Argentine gaucho town of San Antonio de Areco.
Considering we had only come for the day, the laid back character of the town was perfect- there wasn’t much to see or do except just be there, and soak it in. We’ve learned the hard way that you can get burnt out pretty quick trying to cram the typical city’s worth of tourist attractions into one hurried day of sightseeing, so it was refreshing to find ourselves in a place where the only real “must do” activity was to wander the maze of stone paved streets for awhile, followed by a bottle of vino tinto at one of the small sidewalk cafes. And we did exactly that.
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