Goodbye Uruguay, It’s Been Nice

November 8, 2026|Rick Juliusson

“How do you know when it’s time to leave?” a friend asks. Sitting this morning in the Carrasco airport VIP lounge (thank you credit card hack!), leaving Uruguay after two peaceful settled months here, seems an appropriate time to ponder the question.

The short answer is, “We don’t know.” In three years we have not once arrived somewhere with the intention of staying as long as it feels good. Thanks to 3-month visa limits, the security and cost-savings of booking AirBnB and flights way in advance, family commitments, and that ever-niggling itch of another new adventure to experience, we’re always booked at least 6 months in advance. It’s the first week of November 2026, and the next time I don’t know where I’m sleeping will be June 7, 2027.

I do know that the longer we live this nomadic life, the longer we want to stay in each place. When we started three years ago, I was afraid I’d be bored after 1-2 weeks in any one place. Then we spent a month in Istanbul and never ran out of wonder (to be fair, it is a city of 16 million people spanning 2,109 square miles and two continents). Subsequent two-months stints in Albania, Monteverde, Vietnam and now Uruguay have given us tidings of comfort and Joy in the form of friends, routines, language, gym membership, favourite coffee shops and kale-sellers and murals and shortcuts - a sense of what a normal life can be like.

The question I can answer is, “What does it feel like when we’re about to leave.” As you might tell from the above lamentation, the main feeling is “Already?!!!” We’ve gotten past the middle hump of feeling a bit bored - that moment where we’re not excited by new discoveries each day, but also not truly settled into new routines and circles. Then around 6-7 weeks we find ourselves greeting people by first name, inventing alternate routes to the Plaza Cafe without using a map, attending weekly writers’ circles and lunch with the aquafit ladies, and realize we have settled into a rich and nourishing Normalcy that we’re not ready to leave behind. Chile will be our first 3-month stay, and we look forward to fully living into this third “normal” month we keep denying ourselves.

Some more signs that we’re in the final week of a stay:

Start saying good-bye to people. Last purchase of fresh salmon from Gerardo & Camila’s red truck, sharing protein balls at our last Asia Gym workout with our usual talkative crowd
Finish food supplies - either eat a lot of peanut butter or go without, but we sure don’t want to leave any behind!
Travel stress dream - I’ve lost my luggage in the Zaire airport, only have little scraps of paper with claim number handwritten, and realize I also left my cash in the bag…
Finish local currency, including saving enough for the bus/taxi to airport (and make sure to save a few coins/bills to bring home to the nephews)
Start to plan/dream about the next place
Remember where the backpack is, wonder if we’ve accumulated much more detrius that won’t fit or put us over the weight limit for carry-on
And the biggest sign is that we start to summarize, draw nostalgic conclusions and sweeping generalizations about the place we’ve been, what we’ve seen and learned and enjoyed and not enjoyed. Start a running list in my head of final photos and incidents and places to share in a final blog post to close the chapter and cleanse the palate for the next adventure. Which brings us to...

Uruguay: Nostalgic conclusions and sweeping generalizations

In no particular order, here are some final tidbits and photos from Montevideo (the capital, with 1.3 million of the country’s total population of 3.5 million - next biggest city has 114,000 people. There, that’s my first tidbit.)

Second deep insight is that people will complain about weather anywhere. Here, climate change is undisputed as winter seems to go on forever, even if winter barely touches below 10 degrees (45 F). More justified is the concern about sunburns. Even at 16 degrees (61F), the sun feels hot and irritating on the skin. This is because (1) we are further south than the tip of Africa in Capetown, so the sun is more directly overhead and has less layers of atmosphere to soften its burning rays, and (2) the air is much less polluted, so there are fewer particles to scatter or block the sun’s rays. All this results in 7% more intense solar radiation than the Northern Hemisphere has during its summer.

Beaches have sundials to tell us how much danger we're in

Lingering winter keeps the beach clear

Morning yoga while sun rays are still in the safe green zone

Our street in September and November - spring, finally!

Sshh! Quiet Loving

In Myanmar, young lovers would be lined up along the river, chastely leaning together against the young man’s motorbike. No such smooching and snuggling here, unless it all happens after 10pm when everyone comes out to eat and drink and play while we old Northerners go to bed. Perhaps that’s the case for music and dancing too - we hear no music blaring from shops and street vendors, no dancing even when watching the street drum bands (see video below. Our security guy said “Not in this posh neighbourhood - nice people, but no dancing here”), no singing except one guy on our street who regularly belts out loud ballads while carrying his groceries home.

The loudest we get to see Uruguayos (outside of murga singing, candombe drumming and fútbal frenzy) is the surprisingly colourful and wacky striped sweaters that men and women alike seem to adore. Surprising because the rest of clothing is unremarkable - even the ubiquitous mate carriers are not enjoyed as a personal fashion statement opportunity (will that be brown wood or brown leather, sir?)

There is more creative expression in murals and car art. And in fun signs displayed on the sidewalks in front of many a coffee shop. There’s no shortage of creativity and spunk in Uruguay, just a softer presentation (unless it's an enthusiastic sing-along at our "Bach and Beatles" concert at Solis Theatre.)

This is as fancy at mate holders come. You know mine would be purple with glitter

"If you like it, go for it!" (or, if the comma is after "Si", "Yes, you like to go for it.")

"We're not in Paris, but we offer the best crepes - sweet or savory"

"To fight for your dreams is always the correct option"

"We are what we choose to leave in others' hearts"

Tá, Uruguay

We’re 5,800 km south of Costa Rica where I first learned Spanish, so I shouldn’t be surprised at regional dialect differences. Double ll’s pronounced with some combo of sh, z and j (Me shzjamo) instead of a simple Tico "y" (Me yamo). Manteca means lard in most of the world, but it means butter here. The normal response after gracias is por favor (please - maybe like “please, it was no problem?). And a simple Tá is frequently used like we Canadians would say “It’s all good.” (or "Stop that", or "Understood/OK", or ending a conversation like "Got it, enough already...", or repeated twice to show impatient comprehension.)

Tá is a shortening of Está bien ("It is good"), not a quaint British leftover - in fact, the Brits left very little footprint here from their brief 1809 invasion and their "informal empire" through the 19th and early 20th centuries. The embassy hosts an annual croquet game on their vast lawns, the British Hospital charges $1,000 for routine blood work, and the Tienda Inglés sells pretty much the same groceries as Frog or Kinkos.

Halfway through our second month we mentioned to Leo that we hadn’t paid up yet, and wondered why he hadn’t brought it up. “That’s just how we Uruguayo’s are,” he shrugged. Even the traffic is polite, no honking or aggressive cut-ins. Oddly, pedestrians are not given the right of way, but if I step into a crosswalk to claim my space, the driver always stops and waves back with a friendly “of course you can pass” smile.

So with a friendly wave and welcoming smile, I take my leave of you, sweet gentle Uruguay. See you again for Carnival in February.