Calm devil is the shit

I contacted the only CS member stating Punta del Diablo (=devil's point) as his location a few days before my arrival and even though he was away travelling in Brazil at that moment he recommended me a nice hostel he works in, El Diablo Tranquilo Hostel(dorm 240 pesos, 9€ per night). That place and its staff were the main reason my stay in this little village of about 1000 inhabitants extended from the intended one to five days. When the tourists leave in February the place is left to sleep, but when they return in December the prices more than double and reservations have to be made well in advance, unless you want to spend your night on the beach, which is also quite common when everything is fullbooked.

On arrival to Punta I asked the bus driver the way to the hostel and to my amazement he replied that the girl waiting at the station was waiting to take me there – I didn't even have a reservation... This American chick working at the hostel explained that they sometimes go to the station to see if anyone's looking for them when it's quiet. She helped me carry my backpacks and along the 10-minute walk to her work we had already exchanged our life stories in a nut shell. I checked in with her colleague and within 15 minutes we had made plans for getting drunk together the same night.

And that we did, but not just the three of us. All current customers (4 including me), 5 staff members (some of them off, some working) and two other English natives living nearby started a fierce match of flip cup which included choreographed team cheers, lots of beer drinking and incredibly amounts of shouts and laughter. By the time team Loco locals (in the pic) had lost to the other team, which name I've already forgotten, on scores 4-3 we were all wasted and happy. When the bar closed I remembered I had a bottle of vodka in my backpack and the night went on until the morning.

The next morning was quite a lot quieter, and allthough some of us actually managed to get up and go discover the nearby national park, I thought the 10 minute walk on the beach to the store to get some candy was plenty of exercise for the day. Sunday was sunny and I found a nice calm place between two small sand dynes on the beach and enjoyed the summer temperatures laying on the beach reading my book. The beach was completely empty all day even though away from the wind it was pretty much bikini weather. But as soon as the sun started setting and I left my hiding place to face the see wind, it was time to take out the long sleeves and a scarf to avoid freezing the death on the way home.



I walked to the hostel across some beautiful boulders on the beach and decided to take of pic of myself on of them placing the camera on timer on another one, like I often do when travelling alone. The place seemed stable, but the sudden strong breeze made the camera fall forwards and all the way down into a cliff between two boulder. After crawling under the big rocks getting scratches all over my legs and arms I found the camera and its battery but the screen had taken to hit on the way down. Viewing some test shots on my notebook in the hostel proved that this old friend of mine was a goner. I had difficulties deciding if I was angry at myself for being so careless, sad because buying a new camera wasn't in my budjet for this trip or just felt like an idiot caring about a tiny little thing like that. Here's what the last pic looked like as the lens had just hit the rock for the first time:

After hearing that the border town of Chuy only 45 minute bus ride away (50 pesos, 2€ one way) was full of tax free shops I headed there on Monday to look for a new Canon Ixus to replace the old one, but noticed soon that all of the about 30 different shops sold exactly same two Canon models, which I wasn't too crazy about. After realizing how much I might regret travelling without a camera a few weeks I decided to buy a half-decent Canon Powershot which I could've got cheaper from Sweden with Erik in three weeks. But whatever, you guys wouldn't want to read this blog without pics, right?

Chuy is where I started my trip to Brazil the following day and it's a funny town 'cause the it's half Uruguayan, half Brazilian, the main street of the city forming the border line. So I took my bus to the Uruguayn side, took my laundry to be washed in Brazil and during the day crossed the border, the main street, about fifteen times looking for the right camera. Prices are shown here mainly in dollars, but both Urugyan pesos and Brazilian reals are valid forms of payment. Everyone seemed to understand Spanish, but on one side of the street understanding the reply to my questions was a tiny bit more difficult. I'm getting all excited about learning at least some phrases in a new language soon...