When you travel you don’t take much with you. You have clothes, personal items, electronics, a book or two, some travel guides, a Passport and umbrella, and hope. You hope you end up in safe, clean lodgings. You hope you see and do enough to justify the expense of the trip. You hope you don’t get sick. You hope you enjoy your time on the road in a different country where you don’t speak the language and move like a turtle trying to figure out when to safely stick out your head. The studio apartment at  Piedras 271, Apartment 104, Ciudad Vieja, Montevideo, Uruguay is feeling like home. In a new place, I try unfamiliar appliances, find the linens, get hot water, operate latches, locks and switches. Then i move outdoors and learn the new neighborhood. There are sandwiches in the frig. I have extra bottled water. The candle on the dining room table hasn’t been lit, but will. The bed behind the couch is a new room addition, added for my stay. Street noises are tolerable but people talk as they walk below, and, in the middle of the night, cats fight. Buses, a block and a half away, can take me anywhere in Montevideo I wish to go. My apartment and I don’t have a long term commitment but we are getting along well thus far, like a new couple not upset by sleepwalking, dirty dishes in the sink, toilet seats left up. Home starts to become home when you start to call it so.  
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