Montevideo

The road never lies. Regardless of how much I complain about fatigue or difficulties, it doesn't compromise. Every kilometer must be traversed by me, inch by inch.

The path to Montevideo was drowned in rain, fierce and relentless. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Soaked to the bone, I took shelter at a small bus stop. Gazing at the sky, heavy with dark clouds, there seemed to be no respite in sight. I attempted to hitch a ride, signaling to passing cars, but none stopped. Feeling hungry, I nibbled on some biscuits from my bag. Then, after securing my belongings in a large plastic bag, I strapped it to my bicycle. I knew I had to leave soon before my heart got any weaker. Relying solely on external help would only weaken my mind.

Resuming my journey, I pedaled harder against the rain as if attempting to outpace the rain and wind. Gradually, I grew accustomed to the wetness and cold. The intense pedaling warmed me up. After about five hours of relentless cycling, a break in the clouds appeared, revealing a dazzling sun. I paused to bask in its warmth, feeling a sense of accomplishment. A sign indicating Montevideo was only 19 km away boosted my spirits further. The city was drawing near, even though the day was still young. In that moment, I realized that hardship can sometimes be beneficial.

Eventually, I reached Montevideo. The bustling metropolis felt unfamiliar after my rural trip. Amidst the well-dressed locals, my drenched attire stood out like an eyesore. The vast sea came into view two blocks away from the city center. Despite crossing numerous rivers, the sea stirred a unique sense of wonder that rivers couldn't. Sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean as I savored an orange, a realization hit me: "I'm truly on a journey. With my bicycle, I am free to go anywhere."

By 8 pm, I called a Frenchman I'd briefly met while working at antique shop SOL in Buenos Aires. He'd handed me his card back then, suggesting I contact him if I ever visited Montevideo. I called the previous day, and his wife had mentioned I could speak with him around this time. I hoped he might offer shelter and perhaps a warm meal.

When he answered, he sounded busy and regretfully declined my request for lodging. He suggested that we could possibly meet another time, but for now, he was swamped with work. Feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding, I hung up.

I felt embarrassed that I skipped dinner, anticipating that he would offer me one. I felt a momentary drain of energy from my body. The disappointment I was experiencing was proportional to the high hopes I had held. However, in reality, nothing had changed. My expectations had led me to fantasize, and now I was simply being brought back to reality.

I then asked a nearby police officer where I could find a fire station, hoping for a place to rest like the previous night. After finding one, an officer informed me they couldn't accommodate me that night but suggested I could try in a couple of days.

Needing an immediate solution, I ventured into a building resembling a church. The lady at the entrance clarified it wasn't a church and couldn't offer shelter. However, she kindly made calls on my behalf, trying to find a place for me to stay. Unfortunately, it was too late, and all efforts were fruitless. She mentioned that if I returned the next day and sought out P. Jimmy, he might be able to assist.

Resigned to the idea of spending the night outdoors, I grabbed some essentials: a baguette, cheese, and 2 kg of discounted oranges from a supermarket. Sitting outside, I hastily devoured my makeshift meal, looking every bit a wanderer. With my hunger satiated, I felt a bit more at ease. Spending the night outdoors wasn't new to me.

I returned to the fire station to see if they could at least keep my valuables safe. They kindly stored my essential items in an office cabinet. With a lighter load, I settled down on a secluded bench in a nearby park. It wasn't the most comfortable spot but it was manageable, especially since my sunburn pain had subsided. All I hoped was to avoid another encounter with a swarm of ants.