This day is spent in a small town that offers beach, shopping, a boardwalk,surrounded by hills and wooded areas, somewhat off well trod tourist tracks.

To get here we pull off Route 1 out of Punta Del Este and cut through gorgeous hills and grasslands with cows, fields of yellow flowers, a few white puffs of clouds on an otherwise blue sky tablecloth, small farm homes set back from the road.

Piriapolis is a destination where you can relax and put away pretensions. There is a tendency in travel to be consumed by sights, important artifacts, historical events, the need to see and do everything, at once.

There are peculiar houses in Piriapolis. There are homes with thatched roofs, sculptured walls, A frames, California bungalows, ranch homes, and even hippie hangouts with VW buses in the drive. One lady has a black winding staircase in her front yard that lets her go up to her roof to hang her clothes out to dry.

Dogs greet me as I walk through their neighborhoods and only half of the hounds are energetic enough to bark.

It is comfortable here,a hint of California in the middle of Dorothy’s Kansas.

I look  for Toto and spot him asleep on a cushion in a front porch rocking chair. His head leans against a small pillow and a blanket knitted just for the length of his body lets me know that he is loved.

Piriapolis is a good shoe for the person it fits.










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