Day 3: Punta del Este

Our four hour trek to the beaches of Punta del Este started at 5am on Sunday. Dick and I packed our backpacks while Mike mashed away at his clothes, trying to jam a month's worth of clothes (three pairs of shoes, five pairs of dress socks, etc) into a giant duffle bag and a backpack.

We checked out of the hostel and made our way to the bus stop. A couple of transfers and a few empanadas later, and and most of us were sitting on a huge thumb at the beach.

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The first hostel we walked into had room for the three of us in a dumpster of a room out back. The smell of tetanus baked under the rusted tin roof -- it was perfect. 

We rented a surfboard from the front desk and the three of us headed back out to the beach. Mike and I spent the morning teaching ourselves to surf, taking turns strapping our bodies to the board and rolling around in the waves until they washed us ashore. Dickie, in the meantime, started on his tan and picked up a Dumbest Guy Award along the way for packing the wrong beach towel:

In the evening we went to a street fair to pick out gourds and special straws for brewing and drinking mate, a popular Uruguian tea. 

We capped the night off with some fine dining -- good fish, steak, and wine at restaurant called Lo de Tere, and then got ready for our next adventure to Cabo Polonio, the filthiest and most nuts place yet.