Punta del Este, day 6

Mad Dawg Outside Punta Del Este

Piriapolis to Punta del Este; bike ride: 11:30 am - 4pm

We miss our son.

I think of him as I ride. It is supposed to be only be 40 km to Punta del Este, but today the kilometers seem twice that long. Some days the miles are relative; how long or hard a ride is depends on the mood, the people we meet, the kinds of winds that blow our way. Punta del Este juts out like an elbow and is where the sea begins in Uruguay; everything south of this point is a river. Despite this noteworthy distinction, I am unimpressed. I miss our son and hope he is well and happy. We haven't had a chance to talk to him since we left the States. Fall semester begins soon at the univ. of Auckland, where he is in his second year, and so my thoughts are full of him as we ride, Rand ahead of me... 20 km, 30 km, onward and eastward to the glittering sea. I have had enough of beauty. I want to be at our hotel, showered and clean, my hair unsnarled and free from the helmet.

At 35 kilometers, with the sea on on our right and as we inch along, fatigued and hot, some kid, passing by in a red car, hurls a water balloon at Deputy Dawg and it smacks his shoulder and explodes as it hits the ground and splashes him across the legs. A direct hit! It startles us both and before I have a chance to think about safety or being prudent, I am filled with vengeance, and I take off after the little assassins, forgetting how tired I was just moments before. There is only the chase.

I keep my eyes fixed on the red car and watch it weave through traffic, my legs pedalling furiously to keep up. I don't even know what I'll say to the hooligans, but I am thinking of something cutting and sharp, something that will make them think twice about attacking defenseless cyclists -- something like, you think that's funny! No, it's not, you punk! but in my hopeless Spanish of confused pronouns, I'm afraid it will come out: you think I'm funny? I'm not. I'm a punk!

I am gaining ground, but the red car runs a red light, then another, and after another half kilometer, the red car eludes me for good, and I am on the promenade, breathless from the hard chase and, quite unexpectedly, in the heart of Punta del Este.

The prankster was like the taxi driver we met in Montevideo, but with a water balloon as carrot, and without the good intentions or the kindness. Still, he did make the last part of the ride exciting, if not downright fun.

We resolve to keep our eyes open for assassins toting water balloons on the next ride.

-- Mad Dawg copyright 2007

Update on the water balloon attack:
According to a friend and fellow travel hound, RS: when it´s Carneval time, everyone´s idea of fun is to blast each other with water balloons, especially if the target is a hot chick or hot guy (in the words of RS). RS said Deputy Dawg should consider the attack a twisted compliment. So, he will.

Nuts and Bolts of the Ride
Roads 3
Scenery 3
Facilities 2
Bathrooms 2
Traffic 2
Difficulty 2

Nuts and Bolts of Punta del Este
Food 4
Shops 4
Cute 3
People 4
Cost 4
Hotel Salzburgo $80 (3)
Memorable: Jorge Ferria, 19-yr-old cinematographer student working at Hotel Salzburgo, who pointed us in the right direction of Cabo Polonio and Punta del Diablo. His enthusiasm was infectious, his intelligence ravenous.

Memorable: Excellent fruit stand about 5 blocks from Salzburgo