Ola Uruguay Real Estate and Investments

It’s 2010. Time for a new calendar and a look at how the year ends in Uruguay.

In Montevideo, New Year’s Eve celebrations begin about noon on December 31. Streets that could be navigated safely and serenely in the morning suddenly become chaotic with hoards of Montevideans anticipating the arrival of the New Year. Peatonal Sarandi, the walking street that leads to Mercado del Puerto in the old part of the city is the primary place for celebrating. The year before, I was in Montevideo as the year ended; this year, I was wiser and watched the reports on television instead.

From balconies, windows, and rooftops, confetti of torn calendar pages rain down, along with buckets of water. Pedestrians duck into doorways and look warily upward, but few are spared. Nobody seems to mind.

The revelry increases as you reach the port. Here, if you have escaped the water bombs, you will be doused with beer or, more likely, sticky sweet cider by enthusiastic strangers. If you venture here on foot, you cannot avoid being a part of it. Wiser participants have arrived early and secured upstairs restaurant seats to view the celebrations. Still, if they leave too early, they may yet fall victim. All is accompanied by rhythms of candombe and salsa music. Later in the afternoon, the crowd runs out of enthusiasm or cider or both and the show comes to an end. Many, however, will move on to other locations for further celebrating. As the crowds disperse, the clean-up crews with push brooms do their work.

In Montevideo, most restaurants close on New Years Eve. It’s a family thing. Restaurant employees go home to spend time with their families. Most facilities will open again an hour or two into the new year, but, in the meantime, unless you have made a booking at one of the few restaurants that remain open, you will not find a place to eat or drink while waiting for the fireworks.

Out in Atlantida, the same is not true. All the downtown restaurants, except MacDonald’s, are open. I had booked a table for our group at La Barca, a little restaurant above the beach that has a view of the sweep of coast down to Solymar, about three-quarters of the way to Montevideo. We would be ready for the fireworks. We were seated by ten and began with drinks while our food was being prepared. Live music came from a couple who performed romantic songs in Spanish and French.

The pops of firecrackers punctuated the night air, and occasional premature displays would light the night sky. By 11:30, the musicians were doing their encore song and the fireworks outbursts were more frequent all along the coastal vista. Fifteen minutes later, we turned our seats to watch the now nearly constant show. Explosions were happening right on the beach in front of us and in the streets behind us. At midnight, the noise was constant as everyone, in Uruguayan fashion, kissed and embraced. Restaurant servers suddenly appeared distributing glasses of champagne and sweet treats.

After we paid our bill, we wandered up to the centre of downtown. In front of Don Vito’s, the most popular restaurant, a street party was happening. A DJ played infectiously rhythmic music and the streets at the corner intersection were plugged with dancers and watchers. The dancers spanned all ages, from children to grandparents. Age did not determine dance partners either. Sometimes whole families danced together in a group. Even the onlookers were body alive, swaying and bopping along with the music. While alcohol consumption had undoubtedly occurred, this was not a celebration of drunkenness. It was pure fun – a joyful Uruguayan sharing of the incoming year.

Although we left for home at about 2 a.m., the party continued. Uruguayans do not quit as early as us gringos. However, all of us were thoroughly happy with New Year in Uruguay.