montevideo at midnight, where the humidity steals the stars

okay so i spent last night wandering around montevideos old town trying to photograph that faded pink house everyone swears is cursed and ended up squeezing into a tiny bakery for espresso and arguing with a vendor about whether ‘empanadas de pino’ are actually a thing. i can’t explain why i bought 17 different flavored mustards, but now they’re sitting in my suitcase like a confession.

you should check out this spot on yelp: ‘La Panadería del Alma’ for the best pastries, if you’ve got the stomach for mess.’ but the yelp review is from 2019. i don’t even know if they’re open. another<>, but honestly, the bakery now says they’re ‘temporarily closed for ambiance revitalization.’ whatever. i’m here, i found a moldy empanada, and i’m loving it.

！the weather? ugh. i just checked and it’s this damp 22.07 you feel like you’re walking through a sweaty sock. stifling, humid, like the air itself is judging your life choices. i’m sweating through my vintage denim jacket and wondering why i didn’t just cancel this trip. turns out the feels-like is 22.58, which is basically a tropical sauna.

」someone at a hostel last week<>, i overheard, said, ‘if you get bored, the beaches are a short drive away.’ or so they claimed. turned out they were high on mate and talking about surfing spots that probably don’t exist. but okay, i’ll take it. maybe i’ll drive to a beach someday when my knees stop giving out.

>here’s a thing i heard from a drunk history nerd at a bar: ‘the old winery district has better coffee, but you gotta follow a deal-breaker old-timer who hates espresso.’ i told them i wasn’t here for coffee. i’m here for chaos. which is ironic because now i’m stuck in a café trying to photograph a steamy latte art of a dystopian chicken. the barista told me to ‘embrace the grind.’

are you listening? the wind is howling through the alleyways here. it’s the same wind that’s moving those temps from 21.05 to 22.9 in a heartbeat. feels like the city’s breathing with me. or against me. who knows. i walked into a street art piece of a guy holding a giant library book and thought, ‘alright, maybe i’m in the right place.’

i took this photo of some weird concrete houses:

one is brown and white, covered in moss. another is pink. they all look like they’re waiting for someone to paint them again. or maybe they’re haunted. i’m 50/50. this one<feels like a set for a horror movie.

also this massive building<sitting on the side of the road. it’s like a forgotten skyscraper that forgot it was a skyscraper. convenient though! i climbed its steps and found a vending machine that sells noreia. what even is that? it’s a crisps thing. or maybe a potato snack. i threw it in my bag. i’ll research it later.

!digressing. someone told me on the bus<>that the locals here believe the city was founded by a guy who thought he could make wine out of seawater. which is wild because the sea is literally here. i asked a vendor if that’s true and he just stared at me for five minutes before muttering, ‘maybe. maybe not.’ classic. the way he said it made me think he really believed it. or maybe he was mad because someone ruined his artist inspiration.

>blah blah. i’m sitting in that same bakery now, trying to stuff a moldy empanada into my mouth while typing this. the wifi won’t cooperate, the humidity is making my skin crawl, and my mustard packets are plotting against me. but hey, at least i have these tags: travel, montevideo, human, vibe, messy. that’s a solid 5/5.
oh and i need to visit the beach someday. maybe. <>. don’t take it literally. this trip is a dumpster fire I wish i packed more sunscreen and less mustard.

- (‘sleep deprivation made me write this while crying into a lomo camera’)

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