Imagine New Years Eve…a drippy dark day, family, friends and football fans, cocktails and countdowns, a raised bubbly cup, one last bottom’s up, and should auld acquaintance be forgot…
But, what if New Years started with Summer Break!?! Families flocking in flipflops, jocks playing soccer (futbol) on the sand, tanned girls (chicas) sunblocked in bikinis, with weeks of freedom ahead…would you prefer winter instead!?!
Montevideo’s year-end tradition starts with a midday exhibition of lost inhibition down at the historic port market, El Mercado Puerto. According to Justo, they just go crazy (loco). Then, they leave before eve for a rest (ciesta), then it’s off to the party (fiesta)!
Entering the large covered hall, searing asado assaults your senses. Leandra gawks, laughing and gasping…I gape to escape drowning on drool. This country’s legendary consumption of meat (carne) in confirmed by booth after booth of barbequed beef.
Here (aqui’), we see just three of the sizzling grills (parillas)…
Scoring a stool and pouring cool beers, we propose cheers to...well, just to being here--and to a happy new year (año neuvo)!
Psst, notice the man (hombre) by my back wearing black (negro).
Meanwhile, coming nearer was a little old man (viejo)…
Guitarra in hand, this hunched-over man, hunkers up to our place at the bar. “Si si” we say fast, when, in Spanish, he asks if, perhaps, we might like to hear. Softly, he sings, fingering strings, and the dins all around disappear. His words and his sound turned others around but his eyes stay on Leandra and I…
Happy clapping followed his song, and noises resumed. A blink and slight nod was his bow. We thanked him. Justo gave him some pesos, and he waddled off into the loud crowd. Justo said he was singing about us…about love, and our life, and welcoming us here on this day. Justo also said he was over ninety…
Someone taps me. I turn. “Hhha-war are you from?”, said a smiling man next to a staring man. “Uhhh, Oregon, Portland, Oregon, uhhh, by Califo…”, “Jes, jes, I know dis, I hha-ave been, jes, sahn frahncisco, berry nice, I hha-ard your english so I ah-sk!” At this point, his staring friend starts smiling and nodding. This is how we met Javier (Hhha-bee-air—¿español, si? ) and Eduardo! Thanks to Uruguayan kindness, our little group grew to five! Now, two can translate for us…and Eduardo!
Javier is a banker and has literally traveled around Earth—he met his wife on an elephant! Eduardo does carpentry, carves fine wooden furniture, and hears English better than he speaks it. He marries in March, and we're invited! Within moments our outgoing new crew goes out to the public square, where, as Justo warned, things get bonkers! Young people pack the street armed with “Sidra”, cheap alcoholic cider in plastic liters—music and drums beat in the heat while bottles are chugged and chucked, shaken and spraying all around us! Soon, we’re all stinking and sticking with cider in the soggy slogging mob! Fortunately, in Uruguay, good spirit proves stronger than cheap spirits and everyone enjoys the celebration!
Javier asks, “Do you like rock moo-zeek?”. “Si si”, we say. “It is hhh-ere”, he says pointing at a place better known as “there”. Walking and talking, we see kids ambush walkers with buckets of water from above—all part of the fun…
We enter the historic center and stop to snap a shot…
Arriving to live classic rock—“Back in Black” was a shock—we move in to “get into” the show and…
the crowd starts to grow…
and we both go "whoa!"...
as we dance to the flow...
of rock, disco and funk…
with the old and the young…
til the songs are all sung...
but New Year’s has only begun!
We clap, we slap five, grab a cab for a ride to our room for a shower and nap...
Around 10 or so, with Justo we go in his trusty Renault to the beautiful home of Pedro--you know, Lourdes’ beau?--for food with his family and a fireworks show! Surrounded by strangers of all ranges of ages, we're welcomed like newly found kin…
…then, as we countdown from ten, the countless explosions begin!
And the old year came to an end!
Welcome to 2007!!! ¡Salud y beso, felic año neuvo! (a toast and a kiss, happy new year)
Pretty flares burning bright lit the city all night....
In the smoke and the sound, desserts passed around with espressos, sugar and cream. It was easy to mingle as most were bilingual, and Uncle Cesar asked if I snorkelled. "I love it! Si si! I exhorted and chortled. I'm escorted to something important...
His den was akin to a dead captain's quarter, with portholes and timbers decayed by seawater. Get a whiff of the booty of loot he discovered hidden by sand that the currents uncovered. You see...
Cesar has a cabin that sits on the stone on the shore of a cape known as Cabo Palonio. And out from the rock, and under the sea, ships have been sinking since 1603. there are forks, spoons and knives, small crosses with Christs, buckles and cuffs, bullets and blades, made likely in Spain, blown here by the trades.
Before leaving that night he gave me his mask--he knew we were soon going there. I didn't even ask...
