Goodbyes

Marilyn, June 30, 2015

Seven months after our first visit to the Buenos Aires airport, Teo and Javy and I find ourselves here again. When we were here the morning of December 1, we were near the end of our journey; today, we've only completed the first short leg of the trip. Then, we had a huge adventure and a million unknowns ahead of us; today, we can reflect on all we've done and all we've learned and the many ways our world has expanded. We are now an hour into our five hour layover, with an overnight flight still between us and Atlanta. It's going to be a long night, but with some joyful reunions at the end of it. Teo and Javy are eating the first bagels they've had since we left home (thanks, Starbucks), and we're enjoying the honey milk balls that I made with the last of the peanut butter that our friends brought us in March. We're sitting in front of a broad window, watching trucks come and go past us on the tarmack. I feel like I could use a nap.

We did visit a café here in the airport and found their food to be about as good as the English on their travel posters. 

Gene is still in Montevideo, tying up a couple loose ends there and spending our last pesos before he boards his flight to Miami about the same time we'll be boarding ours here for Atlanta. He'll get home a a few hours after us, but hopefully without the hassles that come with connecting flights on different airlines and a layover in a third country. I'm a little baffled by all the bumps in the road that have come with the itinerary that the cheerful Delta agent so easily put together for us nine or so months ago, apparently never suspecting the frustrations he was setting us up for.

The last few days have been full of goodbyes, and lots of questions about what we'll do when we get home. We've tried to guess how our good dog Lickorice will react when he sees us; the boys have asked a million times if our housemate Johnny will be home when we arrive; we've tried to imagine what it's going to be like going from winter to summer in 12 hours' time.

The past two days, of course, were mostly filled with lots of packing and last-minute errands. Teo and I did take a nice long, last walk on the beach yesterday, and I went up to the roof one final time this morning to try to fix in my memory the view I love so much. A few tears have been shed, a few promises made about trying to return.

Gene's coworkers gave us a nice goodbye party last week, where we ate chivitos, the traditional Uruguayan sandwiches, followed by salchichón de chocolate. Salchachón translates as sausage, and this chocolate dessert looks a lot like typical Uruguayan salami-type sausage, shaped in a roll with bits of white cookie speckling the dark chocolate cake. As a sending-off gift, the boys were given Uruguayan soccer jerseys with the numbers of two of the star players. They're wearing them today for their homegoing.

On Tuesday, I went shopping at the outdoor market in the next town for the last time and said goodbye to the woman who has sold me peanuts, cashews and raisins there for the last few months.

Thursday, the boys went with me to the Atlántida market. We had made some oatmeal cookies to give to vendors there who have been special friends. Gladys has patiently helped me with my Spanish and kept me stocked with cheese and other good things, and saying goodbye to her was hard. We bought our last empanadas from the empanada stand and gave cookies and a drawing that Javy had made to the emapanada man and his wife, who have each week been so happy to see us.

Saturday morning, Gene and Teo had another cookie delivery to make to thank someone who had gone out of his way to help us out. In March, we discovered that our iPad Mini was missing. We searched the house up and down, and searched our memories for a clue of where it could be. We finally had to conclude that it was gone, and did our best to chalk it up to some sort of bad luck or irresponsibility, though it was not like any of us to be careless with it, and it didn't make sense that someone would steal it from our house without disturbing anything else. It was a mystery and more than a little consternating. Then, one morning recently as Gene was walking to the bus stop, he received a call from an unfamiliar number. It was a man at a local electronics shop, who said that our iPad had been slid through the mail slot in the door to his shop the night before. He had gotten Gene's phone number from it, and was calling to have him come get it. The iPad was in perfect shape, and the man refused to take any money for returning it to us. He did, however, seem to enjoy receiving the cookies, and we were glad to have a way to express our appreciation to him.

Later on Saturday, we went into Montevideo for one last afternoon to see Gene's colleague Laura and her two boys, who Teo and Javy have very much enjoyed getting to know. We met at Parque Rodó, the large park that the boys and I frequented in our first weeks in Uruguay. The weather was beautiful; this warm spell in the middle of winter comes annually, it turns out, and is called veranillo (little summer) de San Juan (because it occurs near the Catholic celebration of the Feast of St. John). The four boys pedaled boats around the lake, kicked a soccer ball back and forth, and rode a few rides at the adjacent amusement park while Gene, Laura, and I discussed the U.S. Supreme Court's decision that has legalized same-sex marriage (it's been legal in Uruguay since 2013), what Uruguayans think of all the gun violence in the U.S. (they think it's absurd), and why Uruguay, as a nation of immigrants, doesn't have more and better ethnic food. It was a wonderful afternoon that made me think, once again, that we need to find a way to return to visit good people and relive good memories sometime in the not-so-distant future.

Sunday was spent packing seven months of our lives into seven large suitcases and various carry-on bags. Gene has a special talent for packing, for which I am always grateful. The family from the summer house next door, who we got to know in February and who we have enjoyed seeing on weekends since then, swung by for a moment on their way home to Montevideo from a visit up the coast to say goodbye to us. Their sweet kids were a special friends to Javy and Teo, and will be missed!

Right now, half a day from arriving home, I am wondering what surprises are in store for us, what sort of reverse culture shock we'll be experiencing. I won't have the luxury of a relaxed readjustment period. Nine days from now, I'm off to the summer camp I co-direct, for two and a half weeks with 20 middle schoolers. But I don't want the opportunities that transitions bring to be lost on us. Much of what has become normal during our time in Uruguay, I want to remain normal for us in Atlanta. For example, I hope we can continue to hang our clothes out to dry instead of using the dryer, rely less on our car and more on bikes, and do a lot of our shopping at the outdoor markets that we are lucky enough to have near us. There is some lost time with friends and with academics to make up for, and the boys will have to wean themselves off their screens, which have been their companions way too much lately. I hope we will be successful in making these and other changes as a result of our time away. But I am also aware that the larger impacts of this experience won't be evident right away, and maybe not for many years. I am eager to watch my boys develop and grow, and hear from them in a few years what difference they think their Uruguayan adventures have made in their lives.

Uruguay Lost to Chile

Teo, June 29, 2015

A few days ago, we watched a soccer game between Chile and Uruguay. It was part of the Copa América. The Copa América was a really big deal in Uruguay. We watched some of the games at the estancia and one at an empanada shop. There were lots of flags in restaurants and in shops and we could see all the people watching the games.

The game between Uruguay and Chile was really important. Javy and I put on our Uruguayan soccer jerseys and made popcorn and watched the game. One of the players, Cavani, did something wrong and got a yellow card, and did something wrong again and got a red card. That meant he was kicked out of the game. He was their best player. After he got kicked out, Uruguay was playing pretty badly. Uruguay lost to Chile. Uruguay had 0 goals, and Chile had 1.

We were sad afterwards and we went to bed.

 

Explorations Along the Border

Marilyn, June 26, 2015

After our departure from Estancia Panagea last week, the boys and I met Gene in Tacuarembó and drove straight west into the beautiful setting sun toward Salto, on the Argentinian border. Salto is the second largest city in Uruguay, and sits atop the Guarani Aquifer. From our study of Uruguayan history, the boys and I immediately recognized that the name honors some of the indigenous people of the area. The aquifer, which also extends into Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay, is a hugely important reservoir of fresh water, but has also become a key source of tourism dollars in northern Uruguay. The area around Salto is dotted with termas, or hot "springs." (The water does not really bubble out of the ground like one would expect from a spring, but has been brought to the surface by drilling down into the aquifer.) Municipal hot baths and resort towns have sprung up and provide a great vacation destination in the winter months.

We had reservations at one of the many hotels surrounding the Termas del Daymán, just south of Salto. Although this was a holiday weekend, honoring the birthday of founding father José Artigas, the hotel was not crowded when we arrived. We had a pasta dinner in the dining room, served by a very friendly waitress, and then the boys and I snuggled down for a game of Monopoly on their iPad.

The next morning, Gene had to do a bit of convincing before the rest of us were ready to put on our swimsuits and venture out into the cold. My back was hurting quite a bit, and the thought of soaking in a warm pool was inviting enough for me to brave the 50-degree air temperature. We drove to the termas, not knowing quite what to expect, and found that the municipal complex was really quite lovely. It included ten pools, a large playground, a picnic area, and well-tended gardens that even had a few roses hanging on for dear life. Several folks were soaking peacefully in each of the pools, and it occurred to me that this is the perfect vacation spot for Uruguayans, who seem to like nothing more than sitting and chatting to each other while they drink their mate.

I rented myself a moderately warm bathrobe from a nice man named Carlito, and one by one, Gene, the boys, and I mustered up the willpower to strip off the many layers of clothing we had worn over our swimsuits, take a shower at one of the several outdoor shower facilities, and hop into a pool. The water was very warm, and very soothing. We tried out a number of the pools and lazily soaked for as long as we could stand. The last pool we tried was just deep enough to sit in and be about neck-deep in water. It felt great to my aching back, but then I was presented with the problem of getting out, which was impossible for me to do painlessly or gracefully. Feeling like a clumsy cow, I finally managed to lift myself out, hobble over to my bathrobe, and get it on before I embarrassed or froze myself too much.

After hamburgers and ice cream at a local restaurant, the boys and I relaxed at the hotel for the rest of the day while Gene went out and explored the area. He  returned to the termas and visited Carlito, who had some interesting photos displayed in his bathrobe-rental shack. I nursed my sore back and the boys got some much-needed post-estancia rest.

The next day as we started our drive south along the border, I noticed that we would be passing close to a town called San Javier. Its name and its interesting history, which I read about in our guide book, were incentive enough to stop there. Javy has written a bit about it here, and added a few photos, including one of some cool Russian dolls. 

It's that Russian heritage that intrigued me the most about this town. In the early 1900s, my guide book told us, 580 members of a Russian religious sect immigrated at the invitation of the Uruguayan government. Originally a very closed and isolated group, by the middle of the century, they had begun to open up and assimilate a bit. But then during Uruguay's dictatorship, they were persecuted, their books were burned, and some of their members arrested and killed. Today the first immigrant settlers in San Javier are honored at the Founders Plaza, where Teo posed with his bag, in solidarity.

The guide book mentioned that there are also a number of Mennonite communities nearby. Ironically, Mennonite settlers arrived to this Russian community from Prussia in the mid-1900s, fleeing the Russians there. We saw no evidence of Mennonites as we drove through the countryside, but when we stopped for lunch, the little restaurant reminded me a lot of Yoder's Restaurant in Montezuma, Georgia, in the heart of south Georgia's Mennonite community. The jars of homemade jams and the handicrafts that were for sale looked a whole lot like those made by Mennonite hands in Montezuma. 

Photos on loan from the Mueso de los Inmigrantes lined the walls and the industrious farmers they pictured could have easily been Mennonite settlers in Kansas instead of Russian settlers in Uruguay. Oscar Malarov, the restaurant's hospitable proprietor, was eager to explain to me in simple Spanish more about his heritage as he served me my plate of vareniki. The children of the area study Russian in school, he told me, and ties between people here and their relatives still in Russia are slowly being renewed, after long years of virtually no communication during the Soviet era.

As we got back in the car to finish our drive home, I decided it was probably a good thing that we had happened upon this fascinating corner of Uruguay toward the end of our stay in Uruguay rather than at the beginning. Otherwise, I think I would have needed to find the means to return here a few times to learn more about its history, to enjoy Oscar's gracious hospitality, and to try out the campground here on the Rio Uruguay's banks. I like to think that we've done a reasonably thorough job of getting to know this little country, but all I have to do is scratch the surface of each new place, and I see that there is so much more to learn, and so many more good people to learn from.

The Adventure to San Javier

Javy, June 26, 2015

On the home from Salto, we stopped in a little village that was called San Javier. Everyone knows that that is my name, but take out the "San." 

We stopped and went over to an old, old house that was built by the Russians who came to Uruguay to be prosperous. Then our mom and our dad went out to a dock and saw the river that separates Argentina from Uruguay. The river is called Rio Uruguay. But Teo and I didn't go. We stayed and played on a playground that was very fun. 

What we came for was to see the nesting dolls, like the dolls which Russia holds dear. They were bigger than life-size. Think about your dad, if he's tall. Think about one and a half of him. The tallest doll would be as tall as that. The shortest one was about as tall as us. But they do not nest for real. They were made out of cement, so they were very hard. 

We needed to eat. There were no restaurants in San Javier, so we drove a little farther down the road and turned onto a dirt road and went straight for awhile. We turned into this nice place. It looked like a campground. We came to a little shop and we thought that they would only have snacks and directions. But they had a little restaurant, too. We ordered some food and ate it up. Then we hopped in the car again and drove away. 

Return to Panagea

Marilyn, June 21, 2015

(We're having computer issues, so I can't edit this post as well as I'd like, nor can I include a couple of videos. Check back later to see if I've got these kinks worked out!)

Our experience at Estancia Panagea in April (which I described here) was so wonderful that Teo, Javy, and I knew that we needed a repeat visit before our time in Uruguay was up. So, we made arrangements to spend another three days there, crossed our fingers that the weather would cooperate, and packed almost all the clothes we have so that we could dress in multiple layers. On Monday morning, we took the bus from Atlántida to Montevideo, and then bought our tickets to Tacuarembo, where Juan from the estancia would meet us. The helpful ticket agent told us to meet our bus at gate 31, so that's where we headed. Soon a bus pulled into gate 32, and Javy and Teo insisted that it had to be our bus, because they recognized the attendant who had been so nice to them on our trip in April. I told them no, of course not, we wanted gate 31, see? that's what the agent wrote on our ticket. When another bus arrived at gate 31, we took our luggage to the attendant and told him we were going to Tacuarembo. He looked confused, shook his head, and sent us back to gate 32. The nice attendant at gate 32, genuinely happy to see Teo and Javy again, took our luggage and welcomed us on his bus. It was a great reminder to me that while my mind tends to get so full of details of travel and concerns about time tables and gate numbers, what my kids notice and remember and count as important are the kindnesses shown to them and the connections they make with people along the way.

Arriving five hours later at the Tacuarembo station, we happily greeted Juan, and met the two couples whose company we'd be enjoying for the next few days. Flora and Ben are college students from London, spending their summer holiday exploring South America. Nicolas and Nicole are Swiss and made this stop in Uruguay early in their year-long, round-the-world excursion. All four of them proved to be wonderful companions at the estancia, and, like Elin from our first stay there, made our experience infinitely richer.

It was almost dark by the time we arrived at the estancia, giving us just enough time to unload the van before enjoying the brilliance of the night sky. We made our way to the guest house, and were greeted by the portrait on the porch that I love but that the boys insist is creepy. (Her eyes do tend to follow you wherever you go . . . )

A lovely fire was waiting for us inside, and before long, we were all enjoying a dinner of hearty gaucho food. Juan reminded the boys of his rule that if they want to ride horses in the morning, they have to eat salad at night, and he got no arguments. After dinner, the generator provided us with a few hours of electricity, enough to watch part of a soccer match in the Copa América and for Nicolas and Ben to play some games with Teo and Javy on their iPads. Before the generator, and the lights, shut off at 10 p.m., we were in our warm beds anticipating a full next day.

And full it was! We found the gear we needed to bundle ourselves against the winter chill, and Javy took the time to make a fashion statement, as he is so often inclined to do.

It felt great to be on the horses again, riding out onto the prairie under the endless blue sky. In the morning, we helped Juan and the estancia's other gaucho, Bilingua, herd cows from the open field into the corral.  

We were bringing them back to vaccinate them against anthrax and to put them though a bath that treated them for ticks. Juan explained that he had recently had two cows die without showing any symptoms of disease, and in that case, he had to suspect either anthrax or a tick-born illness, either of which would indicate danger for the rest of the herd. He did in fact find a couple of ticks on the cows we were treating (one is on his fingertip, below), very unusual for this time of year, he said. 

Generally, he doesn't have to worry about ticks in the winter, but there have only been three frosts so far this year. Normally, by this time in June, there would have been 35 to 40. The last three winters, in fact, have been mild, he said, attributing the warmer, tick-friendly weather to global climate change. 

The boys and I were familiar with the vaccination routine from assisting with it in April. Teo and Javy knew how to help Bilingua herd groups of cows into holding pens.

From there, they would be urged a few at a time through a narrow chute so that Juan could vaccinate each one. 

The tick bath, though, was new to us. After each cow was vaccinated, Ben would open the gate at the end of the narrow chute. 

The cows would be pushed forward by the cows behind them, or by some prods with a stick if need be, to another long, narrow chute where a 3-meter deep pool of medicated bathwater awaited them. Some of them jumped in without hesitating, almost as if they were enjoying themselves; some had to stop and consider a minute or two, as this one did.

When a cow jumped in, it made quite a splash of muddy water, which we learned to avoid. It then had to swim 20 feet or so to the other side, where it climbed out, dripping all over, but presumably tick-free.

Nicolas waited at the other end, counting each cow and encouraging it to move along into the next pen.

When all 93 cows had been vaccinated and bathed, we mounted our horses again and escorted them back to their field. Returning to the guesthouse and horse corral, we unsaddled our horses and took a couple hours off for lunch, siesta time, and a bit of kicking a soccer ball around.

The afternoon's work was much the same as the morning's, with over 100 cows herded and bathed. One treat as we were rounding up the cattle out in their field was seeing a flock of about 14 ñandus, or rheas, running along with the cows. Perhaps this was the same family we had seen in April, when the chicks were smaller. In any case, they were lots of fun to watch.

One calf in this group had a lame leg, and could not be put through the bath treatment along with his mother. He was not very willing to be separated from her, and Nicolas had to tie a rope around his neck to lead him away and tie him to to a post, where he stood bawling. 

When his mom got through her bath, she too started bellowing for him, but he was too scared at this point to go find her on his own. But with Nicolas pulling and Teo and Javy pushing, the two of them were finally reunited.

When all the cattle had been returned to their fields, and all our horses unsaddled and combed, Juan had the boys help him bring some firewood to the guest house, and then I set about building a fire in the fireplace. With Teo and Javy assisting, I got a nice one going, and we spent the rest of the evening warming ourselves at the hearth and chatting with our four companions, learning about all their adventures.

Wednesday, our tasks were much the same, though with one day's experience under our belts, we worked a bit more efficiently. As we were riding back to the house for lunch, we came upon a brand new baby lamb, with its umbilical cord still attached. It was bleating its little heart out, but the big sheep nearby, presumably his mother, wasn't being very attentive. As I rode by on my white horse, the little fellow started following after me, calling and calling. I wondered if he was just looking for anything big and white that might be his mama. After seeing to the horses, Ben and Flora returned to check on him later and found that all was well, much to my relief.

Of all the wonderful things about Estancia Panagea, some of my favorites are the signs posted around the place. Some of them are instructional, some inspirational, some just fun.

Of all the signs, my favorite is one that does not photograph easily, unfortunately, but is based on something like this. It diagrams "Your Comfort Zone" (a little circle in the lower left corner) and "Where the Magic Happens" (a separate, larger circle that takes up most of the rest of the space on the sign).  I've come across this image before, and have thought it a good philosophy for life in general. But seeing it here at the estancia felt especially encouraging and enormously comforting. That sign was an acknowledgment that no one expected me to arrive comfortable and competent, that it would be OK if I knew nothing about horses, and that if neither my fingers nor my body nor my brain were as nimble as I'd like them to be, I could still have a valuable, even magical, experience. Even with that encouragement, though, I will admit that was easy to become frustrated when saddling a horse for the tenth time, for example, I STILL couldn't get it quite right. At those times, I reminded myself that there are places on his earth that are well within my comfort zone that would be anxiety-producing to the most skilled gaucho or the most self-confident rider. I had to chuckle when it occurred to me that one of those places is the immigrant detention center in Georgia where I regularly visit. For me, spending an hour chatting with an incarcerated man with whom I have little in common is a piece of cake, compared to getting a saddle and girth on a horse properly. How fortunate for the world that we all have our strengths; how fortunate for me that I have the opportunity to step out of my strenths and into the magic from time to time.

In thinking about my comfort zone and my "where the magic happens" zone, I also thought about my upcoming weeks at the camp I co-direct, Peacebuilders Camp at Koinonia Farm. For some of our campers, the farm where the camp is held, or the farmworkers' clinic where we do a service project, or the mental health center that we visit, or the primitive campground where we camp overnight, or just the fact of being away from home, or being with kids very different than themselves, might be way, way, way outside their comfort zone. I am grateful that I have had time to reflect on what it was about Juan's instruction and encouragement made my venture into the magic easier. I will remember his lessons and try to emulate them for my campers next month, shepherding them into the magic as well.

Thursday morning, we saddled up again, and Nicolas, Nicole, Teo, Javy, and I prepared to round up one more group of cattle. Flora and Ben had another mission in mind. They set out on the dirt road that runs past the estancia, heading 7 km to the local school which serves the gaucho community. They hoped to speak with the one teacher there to learn more about this part of gaucho life. In a couple of years, when they are old enough, Juan's daughters will attend this school, riding there and back each day on their own, but for now, the school serves only three students. We said our goodbyes to Ben and Flora, hoping that we would see them again somewhere, trying to convince them to visit us in Atlanta. A half hour later, Teo was sure he saw "the dots that are them" far off in the distance on the road, and Javy said that he missed them already. Certainly, they were wonderful people to cross paths with in this little corner of the world. 

Thursday afternoon and our departure time came way too soon. Even though we were eager to meet Gene in Tacuarembo and head on to our next destination, it was hard to say goodbye to the estancia, Juan and Bilingua, Nicolas and Nicole (who we also tried to convince to come to Atlanta). Teo especially felt a need to know that this would not be our last time at to visit this beautiful place, and seeing him struggle with his desire to stay was poignant for me. If we can make it happen, there are few places I know of that I would rather return to. 

Legislative Palace

 Teo, June 10, 2015

A few days ago I went to the Legislative Palace. It was almost the biggest building we've seen in Uruguay, next to the Antel Tower. 

When we got there, we asked where the English tour was, and we got tickets for the tour. We went to the front and there was a soldier in green with a big hat. He kind of looked funny. I kind of tried to not smile really big.

The Legislative Palace is where all the decisions are made for Uruguay. It is like the U.S. Capitol. We saw where the Senate and the House of Representatives meet. We also saw a really, really big library. The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were in the middle of a big, fancy room that was made of different colors of marble.

I would say that touring the Uruguayan Legislative Palace is more interesting than touring the U.S. Capitol. Everything is really old and you can look at lots of things really closely and it just seems a little more fun.

This is the big fancy room where the Declaration and the Constitution are.

There were little square of marble around the room that showed the 52 colors of marble in the building.

Two soldiers guarding the door. The door is made of mahogany from Paraguay.

There was lots of artwork in the building.

This is where the Senate meets. Up above in the circle is pure gold.

The library had every book published in Uruguay. There were six rooms of books.

The school kids were having a tour at the same time as we were in the House of Representatives.

The Parkour Adventure

Javy, June 5. 2015

Yesterday I went to a parkour class. I was very shy but the teachers were very nice, and there was one other kid. I was surprised that there weren't as many kids as I was expecting.

Parkour is a sport that is very fun. What you do it you jump around and do flips and backflips and jump far distances. The way you jump so far is you have your hands in the front of your face and you jump and pull your feet into your chest and launch your legs like a rocket.

In the class, first we warmed up for awhile. We stretched and then we started hopping around. We stretched some more, then we played follow the leader. We jumped, we ran, we vaulted over park signs, and I jumped on a trash can, which I almost fell in.  Then I tried to jump onto a wall, but I slipped and I fell on dog poop. It was fresh. My hand was smelly. It shivered me bones.

We learned how to spin around on a low wall. First, you grip the edge of the wall and put your other hand flat on the top of the wall. You push yourself and you spin around. You can't do a full spin, because it's almost impossible for any beginner. You have to be a master at parkour.

We did some more stretching and then I got my carbonated water out and I was going to drink it, but it turned on me and it exploded in my face.

I loved doing parkour. I hope to go again to the class next week.

Seizing the Days

Marilyn, June 2, 2015

I've been marking our time here in Atlántida by full moons. The first night we were here, in early February, I took a walk on the beach and was awed by the full moon. With March, April, and May's full moons, I saw the months slipping by.  Tonight the boys and I headed out on the beach to soak up the beauty of Atlántida's full moon one last time. The next full moon, on July 2, we'll have to enjoy 

from Atlanta.

With our time now seeming quite limited, I'm trying to seize the days with more gusto. We're planning to pay another visit to Estancia Panagea before we leave, and might try to make it to the hot springs in the northwest part of the country, but mostly, I want to fill our days with local adventures as much as we can. We still have a few sights to see in Montevideo, and there's still the tiny Atlántida zoo to visit. We've added a weekly Spanish class back into the schedule for the boys, and we're enjoying going to the outdoor markets once or twice a week. The boys were able to go horseback riding once more on Friday, and hopefully we can arrange for that to happen a few more times this month.

Our last really warm day was about a week and a half ago. To take advantage of it, the boys and I moved our schooling from the kitchen table to the shore. They dug while I read to them; for a time, we were joined by a stray dog who seemed to like the story, too. We visited Atlántida's most famous landmark, which is just a few blocks from our house. It's an eagle-shaped cottage built for an Italian millionaire in 1945, and is now a town museum of sorts. And the boys paid a visit to the fort that they have created in the sand cliffs under the eagle's watchful eye.

On Mondays, we're going into Montevideo for their weekly Spanish classes. Afterward, we join in on the volunteer activities with disabled teens, as we did in December. Then, the activities were Christmas-related, but now we're accompanying the teens to the park near their new home for an hour of soccer and playground time. The soccer field overlooks the beach, and every time we're there, I marvel at the beauty of the view. Javy generally joins in the soccer game, Teo is content to spend most of his time on the playground. I don't feel like I contribute much to the activities, but I know my presence is a support to Rebeca, who organizes the project, and I so much appreciate our opportunity to be a part of this good work.

Saturday, the boys and I went into Montevideo again for a small festival at a city park that showcased many activities and organizations and in the city. We went to check out a parkour demonstration. I didn't know what parkour was before we met an instructor a couple months ago, and as he described the jumping, flipping, running, vaulting, and climbing involved, it sounded like something Javy was born to do. 

When we arrived at the park, the festival was just getting underway. The first thing that caught the boys' attention was a bicycle obstacle course. With some encouragement, they got in line to take a turn, and discovered that it was pretty fun. There were places along the course where they had to stop for directions, and I hung close to alert the instructors that the boys didn't speak much Spanish, but no need. They understood everything adequately, and did just fine. 

After multiple rides through the course, I managed to pull them away to see what else the festival had to offer. There were many tents set up with tables and information about various volunteer organizations. I stopped and chatted with the folks from Un Techo Para Mi Pais (A Roof for my Country), a nonprofit somewhat similar to Habitat for Humanity.

Wandering over to another part of the park, we saw an activity where folks who relied on wheelchairs and crutches to get around were helping visitors give wheelchair basketball a try. This man and the parrot on this shoulder were part of the crowd watching.

Other things to see included aerialists and this parachute activity.  

But the real reason we had come was to learn about parkour, and when that got started, the boys didn't need too much encouragement to join in. As I had predicted, they both were really good at it, and it looks like we will be adding parkour classes to our weeks for the rest of the month, too!

Teo vaulting over a park bench

Javy, in black, leaping from a wall

We'll be keeping busy for the next four weeks, packing all the adventure we can into these last days. I am so grateful for all we've been able to experience here, grateful for the life we will be returning to in Atlanta, and grateful for all the memories we'll be bringing back with us!