Thursday, May 29, 2014

"Dispatches from the Pampas"...Day 24...Saturday, March 1, 2014

Lying in bed this morning...in that "twilight" between asleep and awake...I make a "command decision". I have seen enough of Punte del Este...I want some new scenery. So...I decide to head to Montevideo a day early.
This morning, I opt for a bigger breakfast...the usual cafe con leche, yoghurt and granola to which I add some scrambled eggs, sausage and a few nice pancakes slathered with dulce de leche.
After breakfast, I take one last walk for a half hour or so along the beach before heading back to the hotel to check out. By 10:00, I'm on the road...back west to Montevideo. It's a very leisurely two-hour drive. As always, the Garmin does it's job...guiding me effortlessly through the countryside, into the suburbs and deeper into the city until, at last, I arrive at the Hotel Oxford. Once inside, I'm in for a bit of a disappointment...while I have a room starting tomorrow, I'm out of luck for tonight...they're booked up. The desk clerk suggests another hotel, so I drive over there...no luck. A third hotel...no luck. A fourth...a fifth...same story. Finally, on the sixth try, I find a nice (but expensive) hotel with a room available. After check in, I have to park my car in the basement down a very narrow passage at an incredibly steep angle...this will be "fun" coming out.
Once I get settled in, I head out to walk my neighborhood. I'm right in the middle of downtown...lots of hotels and shops, not too many bars or restaurants. However, just four blocks from the hotel is the steakhouse, El Fogon, which my guidebooks have identified as one of the top places for steak in the city...very convenient!
For the next three hours or so, I just walk the city...up one street and down another. One thing that I notice almost immediately is the fact that most people here are carrying some sort of cup and metal straw in one hand and a thermos bottle in the other. They're drinking mate, a highly-caffeinated herbal "tea". I saw a little of this in Argentina but, here in Uruguay, it's everywhere. People make "slurping" noises when they suck through the metal "straw", and that sound is very distinctive (and pervasive). There are even little "mate stations" where you can get your thermos filled with hot water and herba mate leaves to put in your cup. The cup, itself, is made from a "gourd" and usually wrapped in leather. Mate (pronounced, "mah-tay") is perfectly legal (even in the U.S.). It's not a drug, it's just got a whole lot of caffeine.
Around 6:00, I head back to the hotel for a shower and change of clothes...then over to El Fogon for an early dinner. Arriving at El Fogon, I'm somewhat excited because it has that "look" of a classic steakhouse. At 7:00, it's almost empty, so I get a nice table by the front window. After 10 minutes or so, my waiter comes to the table, and I order my traditional "Jack Daniels/hielo/doble". It's almost twenty minutes before my waiter returns with my cocktail...this is the first sign of trouble. I raise the glass to my lips, take a big sniff...hmm...smells like scotch. I take a sip...hmm...it IS scotch. After ten minutes of waving my arms, I finally get my waiter back. I tell him he brought me a scotch. He says no, it's Jack Daniels. I ask to see the bottle...he brings out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. Now I have to walk to the back of the restaurant to the small bar and point to the bottle of Jack Daniels. So now, almost 40 minutes after my arrival, I finally have my cocktail. It's another fifteen minutes to get a menu. Yet another fifteen to order my dinner...rare rib eye, salad and fries...it's advertised as tonight's special. I ask for a wine list...fifteen minutes. I order a bottle of Tannat. thirty minutes later, my steak arrives...a well-done sirloin...and no wine. I send my steak back. Thirty minutes later, my second steak arrives...it's a rib eye, but also well-done...and no wine! I send the second steak back. Meanwhile, my wine finally arrives. The second steak is a rib eye in which I can detect the faintest hint of pink. I eat it...it's the best that I'm going to do. It's dry and tough...very disappointing. Another thirty minutes to get my check. It's over $100 U.S., which is about double what I paid, on average, in Argentina for a much better steak...plus, I've been in the restaurant for close to FOUR HOURS. I am so mad that I do what I almost never do...I leave no tip.
Fortunately, right around the corner from El Fogon, there's a little pizza place. They have tables outside, and they have large bottles of Patricia beer So I'm able to relax outside on a very pleasant evening...enjoying a cold beer...watching people go by. It's almost 1:00AM before I finish the last of my beer and head back to my hotel for bed. I've already started erasing from my memory the experience at El Fogon.

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