It's More Fun In Punta!

(So says the vintage license plate I picked up from Montevideo, which I took as a good omen)

With the capital only slightly holding my attention, I am keen to get back to the water pronto. I have already be warned by travellers and locals alike that it is well and truly low season and not to expect too much, but with the steady/hectic pace that I have been moving at, the overhead sun and nearby beach will definitely be enough to entertain me for a few days. (And with my Lonely Planet guide left behind on the hostel counter in Montevideo, the compulsion to see or do anything else has been momentarily erased from my head).

In only a few hours we start to enter into the Punta zone where high rises, Tuscan tiles and blue-striped window shades dominate my view. Strangely enough, there are also lots of eucalyptus, pine and acacia trees around, planted many eons ago by Uruguayan sailor Antonio Dionisio Lussich who attempted to create a botanical garden that ended up running wild, and so I start to feel like I haven’t even escaped the Curtin University carpark.

Known most for its flamboyant summer resort visitors – who boost the usual 10,000 population to over 1 million – the main strip in Punta is very much like Surfer’s Paradise: all concrete and no jungle. (Although, to be fair to the Gold Coast, there is definitely less bling here than in Surfer’s, and the buildings are a lot plainer too.) And I start to feel a little deflated at the prospect of a few days here. Perhaps I should have just stayed at home? Coupled with this, is the looming presence of the Conrad casino, who has Gloria Estefan playing next week, which the church opposite seems to share my disgust for.

Stepping off the bus, with the sun beating down on me, the hostel I had already booked in Manantialles, 20 minutes out of town, suddenly doesn’t sound so appealing. So instead, I trudge myself, with many short breaks, to a closer Hostelling International address to see if I can do a swap. But unlike previous occasions, the girl there is not happy to accept the credit for my booking and tells me that the one I have already is so “bonita” (pretty). I am so hot; I am so fuming.

I power-walk back past the many closed boutiques (one cheeky one just says “back in December”) cafés and restaurants to the bus terminal, and from here on in, my opinion is progressively altered. Heading further along the coast, further away from Montevideo, I take in the local architecture with manicured rolling lawns that hide mini-mansions nestled between large-windowed apartments. It seems there is still lots of land for sale, with many construction teams working away now that everyone has left, and of course, the reminder are littered with rental signs.

We finally cruise over the Punta de la Risa (the Laughing Bridge – so named because of the tummy-jump it causes you when going over at more than 40km/hr…but when I find out that the engineer never actually got his degree before unleashing his ‘skills’ on the public, I wonder if that story is only half the truth) and move down towards La Barra. It is here, on the other side, that panorama windows show off exotic designer furniture and the roads have a large number of furniture specialists and architects.

Thankfully though, it is also the more rustic end of town, with much more colour and personality than the staid stone structures on the peninsula. And when I arrive at the hostel, with its curved stair and beautiful aqua pool, I know I am going to get the break I need.