Buenos Aires, back to Colonia, Uruguay and back to BA again...

I crossed from Colonia, Uruguay to Buenos Aires via the Buquebus ferry without my moto, which was securely parked across the water. I met back up with my buddy who I stayed with while in BA during February.


More of the usual BA events, wine, steak and more tom foolery with the boys at my favorite spot, Miranda.

But the next day I was informed by my buddy in Uruguay that I was given the wrong paper when I entered the the country only allowing me 90 days for storage for the moto. I was told be every official I asked if I could leave it for 1 year and was told yes. However, Arnaldo suggested that I come back to UY and either ride to another border (300 or 600km away) to get new papers, or beg a plead for new ones through the customs office in Colonia. Mind you, this is two days before my flight leaves for Brasil. So I try to get some information from the Argentine side, with no success leaving a not so cheap physical trip back across the water to Uruguay.

I arrive in Colonia around 10am and Arnaldo meets me shortly after. We go to the customs office looking for the boss. He casually strolls in 30 minutes later and Arnaldo does some talking. he says he will call the Rio Branco office (where I entered from Brasil) in a hour to see if they can fax us another paper giving me one year. So we kill some time...




Colonia is an absolutely stunning historical town dating back to 1680 when the Portuguese established a colony. The Spanish and Portuguese fought for control for the next 150 years.





After we met the boss in customs and he made his calls we learned that for NO apparent reason the border through which I entered does not issue one year temporary vehicle permits. FOR NO REASON. So latin. Oh and the closest border 150 km away was closed for no apparent reason. This meant that with the remaining 6 hours before my ferry left I had to either ride 300km to another border and get new papers and return back to catch my ferry. This MIGHT work, if absolutely everything goes according to plan. However, with the luck of things it didn't seem feasible. So I sent an email to my friend in BA asking him to ask his boss if I could store the bike in his apt. building garage. As last resort, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It was on, and I decided to cross back to Argentina with the bike and deal with whatever it cost to pay for parking in the garage, but hoping it would go unnoticed.



Back in BA after a crazy day it was time for Whiskey Wednesday and another visit to Miranda for some outstanding cuts of meat and vino tinto with the supper club.