After leaving Foz Do Iguazu and the whole taxi fiasco, I find myself on yet another bus, overnight, one of many that I will take over the following two weeks heading east to intercept another night bus. The night bus brings me into Cascavel, a small town two hours east of Foz, convenient as a meeting point for other buses that are heading south for which I can then intercept. This is where I made my connection to the most southern state capital of Brazil, Porto Allegre and thankfully without any slip ups this time around.

Porto Allegre wasn't on my itinerary initially but it was the only option for me that would allow me to enter Uruguay via the border town of Chuy (pronounced chewy) on the Atlantic coast. Porto Allegre or PA as ill abbreviate it, wouldn't be a place I'd be rushing back to, certainly not for what I saw anyways. This place is supposed to be receiving thousands of visitors next year for the World Cup and you can bet your bottom dollar they won be too happy when they arrive with the warm welcome of urine bellowing throughout the city centre. Absolutely rank! If they have open sewers, get them covered I say. If not, they have a serious incontinence problem that needs some sorting out, pronto. So as you can imagine, I was out of there as soon as I could.

I had a few hours to wait at the rodoviaria which was fine, as we had been bumped into the VIP lounge, if you don't mind, that had WIFI, free water, wahoo, and horrible coffee, bliss! The city centre itself didn't offer much.Apparently there was an Irish bar, but alas, that didn't get a visit either. Bare in mind that it was a Sunday also when I was there, so there wasn't a lot happening. I'm sure I'd have to come back in the busier days and months of the summer there to make a right opinion on it, and to get the chance to get out my clip board and mark off "smell of piss" gone from their city but from what I saw on this day, it didn't rank highly and first impression count!

On we get on the bus around the 8pm mark, leaving PA and in the direction of the Uruguayan border at the town of Chui on the Brazilian side. It was only about 5 hours of a drive to get to the border but I had to stay in order to make our stop which wasn't on the actual bus route. We were to jump off on the side of the road 45 minutes from Chuy (on the Uruguayan side), at a junction that had a sign for our destination, Punta Del Diablo. The border crossing went perfectly I have to say. Whilst everyone else snoozed, I was awake waiting for our bus assistant to come back from the emigration office with our passports, stamped and all for us. Everything went perfectly, exit stamp out of Brazil and Entrance for Uruguay.

Here's the thank you. Thank you Brazil, you have been amazing. I have had some very, very, fond memories of my times here between the places I've seen and the great people I've met, friendships that I will cherish forever. But it was time to leave. I was ready for a new country, culture, climate and currency. Roll on Uruguay!

As our bus crossed the border, I enquired if we could go further with the bus to the junction on the main road, which lead down to the town of Punta del Diablo rather than getting off there and then at the border and trying to flag a taxi down in the middle of the night to bring us the rest of the way. At this stage, it must have been 3am and I didn't have much energy in the tank, only the sheer will to get where I needed to be. The road down to Punta was somewhere between 5-10km long and it felt every bit of it. I know that because it took over and hour with full luggage on our backs, a few well needed rest breaks and buckets of sweat to get to where we needed to be. The road down was ever so quiet but for some reason, the tap tap of our shoes on the tarmac managed to wake every single dog in a 20 mile radius. Que, barking and howling that would have woken the dead. As I might have mentioned in previous posts, I wouldn't consider myself the most confident of people around dogs, so every time I heard one bark, I'd drop down a gear and belt on ahead going over in my mind the type of Kung Fu kicks I would unleash if one was to get too close enough to me. Luckily for them, I didn't have to show them my moves I'd learnt from playing too many computer games during my youth, I left them to bark another day.

In the darkness ahead, the town of Punta Del Diablo came into view. Armed with a brilliant map in my guide book, it only took me around the same amount of time it took to walk a few kilometres than it did to find this hostel once in the town! Dawn was about to break in Punta, just as we arrived to the door of our hostel, El Diablo. The sea breeze I remember was warm yet refreshing, luckly for the lads heading off for a spot of early morning surf. On entering the hostel, the warmth welcomed us as did a hot cup of the unfortunately named tea, Hornimans Té. Drink it down they day.

As the day awoke, I was then able to gather what Punta was like from our hillside view over the area. Punta is a small town or village as I would consider it, that has a year round population of 800 people but during the summer months of the year, like January, the population swells to a massive 25,000 people. To be quite honest, I was so glad that I arrived in Punta at the polar opposite time to the heights of the summer. In the depths of winter with no one there, it was strangely beautiful. The beaches there were beautiful but disserted. Perfect water, teal green in most parts and no stones to be seen. The waves then crashed against the stubborn rocks close by, the ones that protected the town from the constant battering of the Atlantic Ocean. The village had a strange appearance that I haven't seen before. In a way due to the lack of people there, it was somewhat apocalyptic to a point. The wind and water had battered the wooden houses and the stilts that some of them are built on so well, it was like as if they hadn't been painted or looked after in years. This gave the area a cool appearance and for me it was a great opportunity to get the camera out for some arty farty shots of nature doing its worst.

The people in Punta are laid back, so laid back that some of them are nearly horizontal. It's like as if they make their money during the boom months of the summer and then they hibernate for the rest of the year like big old hedgehogs. The few that stilled lived there and that were actually alive, were kind of the crusty type, stone mad into putting sign writing on people and drilling holes through your skin. The others were mainly fishermen and I'm sure there was a certain farming element to society from what I could see there, bull nuts and so forth for sale in the shop.

One thing about Punta and Uruguay in general was the need for US dollars. Like any town you would presume that there would be a drink link on some corner somewhere for the provision of funds but not Punta. I was unfortunately told that the nearest place to get some dead presidents was back at Chuy, the border town that I had just come from some hours previous. The receptionist gave me some money so that I could get my ass back to the border to sort out my finances. On arrival at the towns three ATM's, there was no money, not even the Uruguayan peso could be got. The only thing was to go back to get some dollars, the dollars that were lying in my bag some 45 mins back the way I came. I was getting desperate for some money at this stage or more to the point, I was worried that I would collapse anytime and anywhere with the sleep deprivation I had put my body through over the past 48 hours. A taxi back to Punta and a taxi then back to Chuy had me finally in a situation where I was exchanging my dollars. At long last, currency.

My next cry was to get me the hell out of Chuy and back to Punta, preferably to bed. The bus journey back to Punta was average or at least that's what I remember. The ticket inspector certainly got a jolt when he woke me from my slumber to inspect my ticket and all that I could do in reply was roar "CHUY, CHUY, CHUY" in his face. Poor fella, I probably spat in his face too by accident.

The hostel in Punta was nice, a great place to meet people, but to be honest, I was surprised I'd meet any at all but I did it they were all great company. The activities around Punta were sparse at that time of year. It was winter and everything pretty much depended on good weather so that beginners like me could learn to surf or any of the 'something' board sports. So instead, the days were spent walking through the barren town admiring the atmosphere, the characteristics and the nothingness that it all had to offer. Cheap wine in cartons made the days go by easy also!

Leaving Punta, my next stop was the Uruguayan capital of Montevideo. The overnight bus (which only lasted 5 hours) was like a nightclub inside. The interior of it reminded me of the inside of a nightclub in Dublin's temple bar that I used to frequent on a busy Thursday night once upon a time during my college years. The roof lights flashed all colours of bright pink, purple and red. The only thing missing was my feet not sticking to the floor. The hours past by and we rolled in the capital city just after the stroke of midnight in search of a taxi and a bed to rest a weary head.

Hello Montevideo! Hello! Yes, this is Peter. What? Hold on, what? Why the hell is today Labour Day when I'm here?