Rocha was my original goal.

My bus gets to Rocha and within a few minutes I am wondering why I bothered to make the trip? 

Sometimes you get to a point where you get stuck and the best thing to do is go to a restaurant, have a drink, and evaluate. So, I go into a place called the “Americano Grill”. At the grill, my waitress finds a customer who speaks English and he tells me how to get to La Paloma. I have to return to the main square and catch a bus there because it is twenty miles to La Paloma, too far too walk even on a good day.

La Paloma, when I arrive, is another sleepy laid back surfing village.

Locals are getting prepared for the tourist season. School kids, at recess, look studious in their white lab coats with black bow. .My teaching days are over but I still hear school bells ring with a touch of nostalgia.

This dog in the middle of the road, nonchalant, too smart to take a nap there, but not in a hurry to move, captures the mood of this place.

La Paloma, in baseball terminology, turns a strike out day into a double off the center field wall.

After an afternoon of walking and soaking in the little town, I ride a bus back to Rocha and catch the last bus out of Rocha back to Punta De Este.

In a world full of places to see, I like La Paloma but won’t get back this way. It, like Piriapolis, are just side shows under a great big Uruguay tent.

There are more trips to take than money and time to take them.

Uruguay, the size of North Carolina, still has plenty left for me to see.

Salto is the next city in Uruguay circled on my travel map.

 

 

 

 

 

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