Following the obligatory pit stop in Buenos Aires and with time no longer on my side I decided to head for the beaches of Southern Uruguay. At least I could then go home with a sun tan, and thus the image of being somebody who is healthy. So I set sail across the Rio Plata to the Argentinian Province of Uruguay (don't let a Uruguayan hear that expression though).

Punta Del Este is to this part of South America what Saint Tropez is to France, Marbella is to Spain and Torquay is to England. It's where the glitzy set come for their summer sun and fun, and to spend those undeclared pesos in abundance. This means that in summer, and particularly the first two weeks of January, the place goes bananas with prices skyrocketing. Luckily for me it was the beginning of December.

This luck was two fold. The place remains prohibidly expensive, particularly for a backpacker coming near to the end of a year's travels, and the weather was a little bit off. It was sunny most the time for sure, but the super strength wind made sitting on the lovely beaches akin to being sandblasted by a machine of industrial proportions. Not that any of this appeared to bother the locals, who happily sat around drinking gallons of mate. Apparently the Uruguayans are more Argentine than the Argentinians in the mate drinking department. And they eat more beef too... quite a remarkable achievement.

I parked myself at the 1949 Hostel which is something of a local institution. The only Hostel right on the peninsula (I think), across the road from the beach and a lovely long bar to boot. Only draw back was the miniscule kitchen, and given that even supermarket prices here are higher than those in the UK the demand for said facilities was particularly fierce. Of particular interest was the cleaning girl, who spent her days mopping and shining in nothing more than the tiniest of bikinis.

Due to the extortionate prices associated with a night on the tiles, the opportunity for me to experience the famed local nightlife only arose once in the 5 days that I was here. Starting with a few drinks in the hostel, we decided on a nightclub on one of the nearby beaches. So with two Australian guys, an Argentine bodybuilder and a gaggle of Colombian chicks we kept it going til sun - up.

I had been thinking of adventuring further along the Uruguayan coast for some of the smaller, rustic style beach villages that I had read / heard of. I thought it would be nice to kick back on the beach, eat fresh fish I had speared myself and generally just chill before winter in the UK became a reality. Alas I had met some folk who had just come from that direction, and the places were so quiet I would pratically be there on my own. So what the hell I'm going back to Buenos Aires, and a communique revealed that Adan was there too.