To Mercedes

January 24th. Now it's finally time to head towards Argentina. However, we have to go back to Montevideo again, because there is the only gas station in the whole country. Everything goes smoothly there and we continue towards Mercedes on the Rio Negro, where there is a border crossing to Argentina. From almost 200 km as the crow flies, it becomes 450 km. The last nerve-wracking 200 km are on a tarred pothole road with speeds between 5 and 50 km/h. We take it as a practice for the routes that are yet to come, but we are still pretty exhausted when we finally find our campsite at 22:00h. Only the next morning we see how beautiful this Camping Municipal is, located on a shady island in the river. And the price of approx. 8 € for two nights with electricity makes us overlook the bad sanitary facilities and the lack of wi-fi. We will spend the next day by the river and explore Mercedes.... After being thoroughly shaken for 4 hours, it better be worth it.

January 25th. We are shocked to discover that we have lost a solar panel. How did that happen??????? We reconstruct from the existing photos that we still had it the night before yesterday. Could someone have stolen it from us on the last campsite at night? Wouldn't we have heard that? And why only one? It looks like it was simply ripped off and we suspect that the panels could not withstand the shaking, the wind and the suction of the racing trucks that pressed our mirror against the window every time they passed us. Sibylle has now secured the second one with duct tape and we hope to get by with just one for now.

Mercedes is a nice little town. We stroll through the usual Plaza de Constitucion, the pedestrian zone, visit the church Nuestra Seniora de la Mercedes and then look for a cafe with good wi-fi.

We spend the evening at Mercedes' biggest attraction: the approximately 1.5 km long Rambla. Two very wide streets separated by a large green strip, both sides drivable in both directions, become a cruising route every evening. Cars, motorcycles, scooters and even bicycles drive up and down the Rambla at walking pace, looking for and meeting friends, chatting and continuing on. We are fascinated by mopeds with mom and dad, each holding a baby under their arm. Groups of people sit on the ground or on folding chairs, drinking their Mate tea. We enjoy the spectacle with an ice-cold Cerveza, Uruguayan Gnocchi and Lasagna. When we return to our campsite later, life there is just beginning. Charcoal fires are burning everywhere for the late evening Asado. Despite the heat, the loud music and the smoke, we try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we are actually heading to Argentina.

We are a little sad to leave Uruguay. The small country doesn't have spectacular landscapes, the coast is very beautiful, but not unique either. It is the people who make this country and its capital special. Uruguayans are very reserved and polite, but also extraordinarily curious, helpful and friendly. We had many encounters with people who, noticing our car, approached us. Our 'disculpe, no hablo espanol' could not prevent any of them from at least having a few minutes of conversation with us using hands and feet. Sibylle notes that she was particularly impressed by the beer in liter bottles, served in an ice cooler and with icy glasses. But now we say goodbye and are already curious and excited about what awaits us in Argentina.