WEBVTT 00:00:01.500 --> 00:00:24.948 The thunder woke me before the alarm did, which felt appropriate for a day that was always going to be about the weather. I lay there for a moment, listening to the rain hammer the window of my little apartment in Pocitos, and I thought: this is the Montevideo I'll remember. Not the postcard version, but the grey, damp, honest one that smells like wet pavement and boiling mate. 00:00:30.748 --> 00:01:00.796 By the time I got dressed, the storm had settled into something more persistent than dramatic. I checked the forecast on my phone—ten to fifteen degrees, thunderstorm, about twenty-one millimetres of rain spread over thirteen hours. The wind was the real story, gusting hard off the river. I pulled on my waterproof jacket and decided I wasn't going to let it keep me inside. There were things I still wanted to do before I left, and a little rain wasn't going to stop me. 00:01:01.396 --> 00:01:33.796 My first stop was a café on the edge of Pocitos, a place called Ritual Café that I'd been meaning to try. It was warm inside, all wood and soft lighting, and the windows were fogged up from the steam rising off the coffee machine. I ordered a cappuccino and a medialuna, and I sat there watching the rain streak down the glass. The cappuccino cost me around a hundred and eighty pesos, maybe six dollars, which is pretty typical for Montevideo. Not cheap, but the place was full of locals on their morning break, and it felt good to be part of that rhythm. 00:01:34.396 --> 00:02:02.836 I had a list of errands, but really I just wanted to soak in the atmosphere one last time. So I took my time with the coffee, wrote a few notes about the week, and watched the city go about its business. There's something about a storm that makes people move differently—slower, more deliberate. The man next to me was reading a newspaper, the kind you can only get in print these days. The woman behind the counter was humming along to the radio. It was all very ordinary, and I loved every second of it. 00:02:03.436 --> 00:02:39.940 After my coffee, I decided to walk down to the Rambla. The rain had let up a bit, but the wind was still fierce, whipping the waves into whitecaps on the Río de la Plata. The Rambla is twenty-two kilometres of riverside promenade, and I'd walked parts of it every day since I arrived. Today it was almost empty, just a few joggers and a man flying a kite that looked like it was fighting for its life. I stood there for a while, letting the wind push against me, and I thought about all the people who've walked this same stretch over the years. It's a city that doesn't need to show off. It just is. 00:02:44.740 --> 00:03:13.876 From the Rambla, I headed inland to the Mercado Agrícola de Montevideo, the MAM, to pick up a few things for the road. It's a renovated produce market in the city centre, and even on a stormy Thursday it was busy. I bought some oranges—they're in season now, and they're perfect—and a wedge of cheese from a stall run by a woman from Colonia. She asked where I was headed, and when I told her west, she nodded and said, 'The quiet side. Good choice.' 00:03:14.476 --> 00:03:40.372 I also needed to top up my STM card for one last bus ride. I stopped at an Abitab on the way out, and the woman behind the counter stamped the card without looking up. That's the thing about Montevideo's buses: they're a fifty-peso flat fare, roughly a dollar twenty, and you tap your card on the reader and you're on. It's simple, and it sort of sums up the city for me. No drama, no fuss, just get where you're going. 00:03:40.972 --> 00:04:24.316 Lunch was a necessity, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Mercado del Puerto is a place I'd been to a few times already, but you can't leave Montevideo without one last proper meal there. The market is a nineteenth-century cast-iron hall on the edge of Ciudad Vieja, and it's all about the parrilla. I found a spot at a counter and ordered a chivito, the iconic steak sandwich with ham, egg, and mozzarella. It cost me about four hundred and fifty pesos, maybe eleven dollars, and it was exactly what I needed on a cold, wet day. The meat was tender, the bread was toasted, and the whole thing came with a pile of hot chips. I ate it slowly, savouring every bite. 00:04:24.916 --> 00:04:53.116 As I ate, I thought about the news I'd been following. There's a strike at the Pilsen brewery in La Teja that's been going on for a few days now, and from what I'm told, the workers voted not to go back to production and authorized surprise logistics strikes. It's an escalating dispute over the company's plans in Uruguay. I kept hearing it discussed in cafés and on the bus, and it feels like one of those stories that could simmer for a while. Worth keeping an eye on if you're here for a while. 00:04:55.717 --> 00:05:28.045 There was also the story about the 'picadas'—illegal street races that have been a problem in Montevideo. The city's Junta Departamental apparently approved a decree to hold vehicles seized in these races for ninety days, after a tragic incident in Parque Rodó where a twelve-year-old bystander was killed. It's a reminder that even in a city as generally safe as Montevideo, there are things to be mindful of, especially at night. But on a day like today, with the rain washing everything clean, it all felt a long way off. 00:05:29.095 --> 00:05:59.671 After lunch, I wandered through Ciudad Vieja, keeping close to the buildings to stay out of the worst of the rain. I passed the Teatro Solís, the grand old theatre from 1856, and the Palacio Salvo, that art-deco tower that used to be the tallest building in South America. I'm told they wrote the tango 'La Cumparsita' in a café on its site, which feels like a very Montevideo thing to know. The city is full of these quiet pockets of history, and I've only scratched the surface. 00:06:00.271 --> 00:06:39.895 I had one more errand, and it was the kind that makes you feel like a real resident. I needed to check on the status of my residency paperwork. I'd applied for my cédula earlier in the week, and I wanted to make sure everything was moving along before I left the capital. I stopped by the office where I'd done the paperwork, and the woman at the window recognized me. 'Ah, la señora con el viaje al oeste,' she said, and she told me everything was fine, I'd just need to pick it up when I came back through. I thanked her and stepped back out into the rain, feeling a small, stupid surge of pride. I have a cédula number now. I belong here, at least a little bit. 00:06:40.495 --> 00:07:08.815 I decided to take one last walk down a street I'd grown fond of, a quiet cobbled lane lined with murals in the Barrio Sur. Even in the rain, the colours were vivid, and I could hear the faint sound of candombe drums from somewhere nearby. It's the drumming of the Afro-Uruguayan communities, and it's at the heart of the city's soul. I stood there for a minute, letting the rain soak my shoulders, and I felt that ache you get when you're leaving a place that's started to feel like home. 00:07:11.416 --> 00:07:42.184 For a final coffee, I stopped at a little place in Palermo called El Cafecito. It was the kind of neighbourhood café where the barista knows the regulars by name, and I was beginning to be one of them. I ordered a café con leche and a piece of chocolate cake, and I sat by the window watching the rain turn the street into a mirror. The coffee was about two hundred pesos, six dollars, and worth every cent. I scribbled in my notebook for a while, trying to capture the feeling of the day, and then I just watched the city go by. 00:07:42.784 --> 00:08:15.712 As the afternoon wore on, the rain began to ease, and the light turned a soft, bruised purple. I walked back to my apartment through the Parque Rodó, past the pond where the swans were huddled against the wind. The air smelled of wet leaves and earth, and I felt that strange mix of sadness and excitement that comes before a journey. Tomorrow I'd start moving west, to the quiet towns along the Río de la Plata, to the Uruguay River and the hot springs in the north. But tonight, Montevideo was still mine. 00:08:16.312 --> 00:08:50.560 I spent my last evening in the city doing something wonderfully ordinary: I made dinner in my apartment, using the oranges and cheese from the market, and I opened a window to let in the sound of the rain. I thought about the week I'd had here—the cédula and the bank account, the Rambla and the Mercado, the football final at the Centenario and the drums in Barrio Sur. I thought about the cost of living, how a meal out can set you back seven hundred pesos or more, but how a bus ride is still fifty. It's a pricey city, sure, but it gives a lot back in quiet moments. 00:08:51.160 --> 00:09:23.920 I checked my phone one last time before bed. The forecast for tomorrow was clearer, cooler, and I knew the road west would be waiting. I felt ready. Montevideo had been the right place to start this journey, and I knew I'd be back. But in the morning, I was heading off to see more of this strange, beautiful, understated country. I turned off the light, and the storm had finally passed, leaving just the drip of water from the roof and the distant hum of the city. Goodnight, Montevideo. I'll be back. 00:09:24.520 --> 00:09:43.960 I closed my eyes and let the sounds of the city drift over me—the last car passing, the wind picking up again, the faint roll of thunder far out over the river. It was the sound of a place that doesn't need to convince you of anything. It just is. And in the morning, I'd carry that with me west. 00:09:44.560 --> 00:09:47.944 Goodnight, Uruguay. See you in the morning. 00:09:48.844 --> 00:09:52.108 Thanks for listening. I'll be back from the road soon. 00:09:53.008 --> 00:09:54.784 Hasta luego. 00:09:55.684 --> 00:10:03.748 That's it for today's episode. I'm Lucía Ferreira, and this has been my last day in Montevideo, for now. Hasta la próxima. 00:10:04.648 --> 00:10:06.424 Bye. 00:10:07.324 --> 00:10:18.316 I'm still here. The rain has stopped, and I'm just sitting in the quiet, listening to the city breathe. I think that's a good note to end on. Hasta luego, Uruguay.