A Hard Days Night-Leaving Uruguay-Day 7 of my solo bike trip across South America

Today was a long day, probably because yesterday never really ended. Uruguayas might look tranquillo, but that is only their day time disguise. By night it is an altogether different story.
Just as my closed my eyes last night the the real fun began. A large drum circle began right outside the campsite at 9:30 and kept up and a fierce percussive beat until 11:30. To add to the fun, several of my tenting neighbors, hooked up their amplifiers to override the drum circle with their own pop-rock music. And they didn’t quit at 11:30-no sir. They just cranked it up even more. Dogs barked, motors reved, children squealed and adults belly-laughed until THREE OCLOCK in the morning. Call me a party pooper but-whoa. It completely explains why the people here are all so mellow during the day-they are exhausted!

Well, the only way forward is forward and the sun always comes up, and it comes up hot here, so I was up at six and on the road by 7.
I intended to follow the route of my new buddies, Alan and Wendy, but they took a 15 mile detour to go visit a beef bouillon museum, not really my thing, so instead I made a cautious return to Ms. Kamoot, (Okay-enough about my relationships) and I am glad I did.

I started the day on a three-mile dirt road, through a lovely country-side and was surprised to come around a corner and find the road full of cows. Probably, 50 of them. But, no worries-sitting astride a beautiful horse in the middle of the herd was a handsome, young gaucho. He smiled at me and moved the cows out of the way and then rode along beside me for a while, patiently encouraging me to try and explain myself in Spanish.
After we parted ways, and I returned to a paved road, who should appear, but the police car that stopped me yesterday! I was 45 miles from where they had stopped me last. It was only the female police officer this time and she got out of her van and took my hands in mine and told me that if I put my bike in the van she would give me a little ride and no one would ever know. She was grinning and seemed delighted to be trying to corrupt me. Of course I said no, and she gave me a hug and wished me a, “Bien Viaje!” before driving off.

Tonight, I sit in San Javier, on the Uruguay side of the river and look over at Argentina. Tomorrow I will cross over. I am trepidatious about leaving this good place. Here are some final thoughts before I go:

I have never seen more well-cared for animals.

People seem to respect their jobs, there are spritly uniforms for everything from car mechanics to grocery clerks, and they are all clean and crisp.

The police hug-and they don’t have guns-only billy clubs-painted white with yellow trim.

Every truck driver I have passed on the highway has waved at me and smiled. One even blew me a kiss and it was in no way offensive.

People have offered me water when they pass me, opened their closed shops so that I can buy food and have only been kind. Not once have I felt unsafe. Not once.

Just before I landed in this campsite tonight, I did meet a biker heading east. He was from Argentina. We stopped and chatted-he has been out for three weeks and today was his last day. I asked him how the roads were in his country and you know what he said? “Muy linda, seguridad con mucho bueno genres.” Very pretty, safe with many good people.
So here it goes.