el diablo en paraíso

Punta del Diablo was a 24 trip from our bustling, urban sprawl hometown of Rosario.

But for all I knew, it could have been the other side of the world.

This tiny, hippy beach town is a five hour bus ride from Montevideo, along bumpy dirt roads and picturesque ocean views. Reminisent of a crusty old Oregon sea town, the beach houses are all in various, somehow charming states of disrepair, their tourquoise or burnt red paint paint peeling
off the walls, beach buoys hanging from windows, scruffy mutts sleeping calmly by the doors. The roads are unpaved, and horse and carts bump down the central avenue. There is a little stand advertising pescado frito (fried fish) and the owner and his buddies sit outside sipping mate and greeting all who walk by.

Our hostel, El Diablo Tranquilo, is a five minute stroll from la playa grande (the big beach). Two stories high, I am sitting on the second floor typing on this computer and staring out at the beach through sky high windows. There are four puppies that live around the hostel, two of which look like they were left in the dryer a bit too long, and they are communal puppies. As in, this town is small enough for everyone to take care of these adorable balls of fluff.

The high season in Uruguay starts in two weeks, and Veronika, Devin and I have arrived at this little peace of heaven at the perfect time. The weather is spectacular: eighty degrees, endless light blue skies that merge with the deep blue Atlantic, a slight breeze to cool our severly sunburned skin (even my eyelids are burnt) but there are very few tourists. Yesterday, Devin and I splashed around the ocean like six year olds while Veronika read nearby (her new tattoo keeps her from swimming...for now). This morning, we did yoga on a wooden platform overlooking the ocean. Tomorrow, we´re getting up and going horseback riding through the forest and the beach.

We keep extending our stay. We were supposed to go to Punta del Este, the ¨Riviera of South America¨ but none of us can imagine leaving here just yet. Last night we ate dinner at the hostel restaurant, a place full of large, sturdy wooden tables, lit only by candels stuck in wine bottles, and our new friends convinced us that Punta del Diablo was a hell of a lot better than overpriced, casino crazed Punta del Este.

It´s an incredible contrast, the concrete beauty of Rosario against the rolling sand dunes and salty air magic of Punta del Diablo. Where before we were tired, sore, slightly sick, stressed and riddled with hundreds (literally) of mosquito bites; now we are rested, calm, full of yerba and red like ripe tomatoes.

So thank you, you little Uruguayan beach town, for making me feel two things I never thought I would feel together:

so incredibly lucky and so incredibly sunburnt.