Unlike La Paz and Santiago, Montevideo did not manage to capture my affection. To be fair, I really didn’t spend time downtown, and so perhaps that would have been more appealing, but I was anxious to move on out. This was primarily for two reasons: (1) The people I encountered in the street were rather cold, and (2) the going rate for a tiny styrofoam cup of coffee was $4. So.
Montevideo was a blur of:
Airport > hotel > salon > seudah mafseket at the rabbi/shaliach > shul > walk on the beach > shul > shul > shul > dancing outside shul > 282725 bowls of cereal > bus to the border > ferry to Buenos Aires.