Walking Around: Uruguay II

Punta del Este, Uruguay

little pumpkins

Zapallitos are small pumpkin squashes that grow on the farms of Uruguay and migrate to places like Punta del Este, where residents and visitors can admire them at produce stands and imagine what good things might happen to them in the hands of a superior cook.

These drew my attention when I saw them, because their cousins had played a starring role in our lunch on the previous day. It just so happens that our hosts' own cocinera fantastica sliced off the tops, cleaned out the centers and made a heavenly mix of ground beef and both sweet and savory spices. She crowned each one with slightly-browned melted cheese.

We ate them all and felt much better for having done so, for we liked to see the smile on Susana's face, which foretold of more good things to come our way, if only we could keep up with her remarkable talents.

Neither pumpkins nor other squashes will ever seem the same to me....Please pass the filetto.

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Elizabeth's View

Many travelers feel that they are having a true vacation, a period of genuine renewal, when they momentarily forget all the things that have been ailing their minds, bodies, and souls; however,  I think that the truest test of a real vacation is if you make some effort to conjure up whatever spell nature, love, financial accounting, or a silly boss has cast upon you...and you cannot do it at all, even for a momentito. 

This state is remarkably similar to the one experienced when you wake from a dream, even a very good dream, and, try as you may, you cannot remember what seemed so real just a minute ago.

If you cannot reach this point, you cannot claim to really be on vacation, at least as I define it; you are merely on a trip. You may measure this trip by thousands of miles, if you like, but in a very real sense, you have not gone away.

Susanna's Palette

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I was very far away by every measure while in Uruguay; yet, my senses felt very much at home in what might seem like a contradictory way. Trying to explain this kind of thing only ends in confusion: better to say mucho gracias and take your seat at the table.

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At lunch, Susana always made a freshly baked tartas, or a pie, or both. I think that tarta ajoporro (leek) was my favorite. Or, was it the tomates y cebollas (onion)? Actually, I think that the pastell pollo, made with the large free range chicken we grilled over eucalyptus the night before may have taken gold.

Whatever. This is a contest in which you will always emerge a winner, surrounded by fresh green ensalada, olive oil and lemon or balsamic, fresh mild radishes, and cold beet-root in need of no garnish at all.

Before

Have we mentioned postre, dessert? Perhaps it's best if it remains a secret from my physician, who may never have been to Uruguay, but will see its bounty as soon as he examines me. I don't care. The limon cake with soft meringue-like top was worth any kind of lecture about the hideously evil nature of sugar. Hah!

And I have already spoken of Freddo, local helado emporium. Guide books will translate that word as "ice cream," but do not be fooled by this imprecision. To understand the language of helado Freddo, you must experience it yourself, kilo by sweet kilo.


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After

When we travel, we tend to rely too much on metaphor: "This coast is just like...," or " These trees remind me of..." We like the familiar and like sounding like we're experienced travelers. These are natural reflexes, but it's best to try and avoid them, if you can. It is better to just look at what you see where you are. It is actually much harder to do than it sounds.

But, if you can do this, you increase your ability to be absorbed by a place, experience the fulness of its native qualities, and reach that state of awayness, which will renew and refresh.

You may still turn on your BlackBerry while away, but it will seem much more like an object, rather than your life as you knew it before you arrived where you are.