In fact, this place hides a lot of ordinary yet almost unbelievable beauty. If you also happen to love the sea, architecture, art, and soccer, then this place is Montevideo.

Coastline

A few days ago, I was chatting with friends and realized that while I can no longer recall past trips in one continuous narrative, the fragments formed by so many moments still make me feel instantly transported back whenever I close my eyes.

My fragments of Montevideo are like an old movie: a coastline at sunset that seems as if it will never end.

Just how long is this coastline? The coastal avenue running from west to east changes names more than a dozen times, from Avenida Francia to Avenida Chile to Avenida México, as if it takes the names of all the countries in Latin America to hold this shoreline.

A city with the sea is a blessed city. The whole city is wrapped by the water, and the sea becomes everyone’s playground.

Especially for South Americans, who seem relaxed by nature, work relatively short hours, and are far more willing to let time drift away by the shore.

Walking slowly along the waterfront, you come across all kinds of people: a girl on rollerblades, two older guys fishing, a father kicking a ball around with his child, a middle-aged woman reading alone, young couples in love...

Some choose to sit alone beneath the breakwater, as if burying either the day’s joy or sorrow in the sea.

More people simply sit together with friends, sharing this small happiness, each with a cup of mate in hand.

The sea, girls, and mate tea are my most romantic memories of Montevideo.

The name Montevideo is a little odd. In Spanish, Montevideo literally looks like it means “video mountain,” which makes it sound like some influencer livestream hub. But supposedly its true origin comes from Magellan’s Portuguese sailing journal: when he passed by and saw a mountain here, he called it Monte vi eu (“I saw a mountain”).

Standing on the hotel’s rooftop terrace, with the entire city sinking into the glow of sunset, I could almost understand how Magellan felt back then: I came, I saw, I conquered.

After nightfall, the sea grows even softer, almost seductive. For a first-time traveler, a night like this is how a city gets etched into memory.

Feeling the sea calling to me, I decided to get up early the next morning and go for a slow run along the coast. This time, she showed me a completely different palette: bright, lively, and full of energy.

Walking Montevideo’s waterfront three times over is the simplest possible guide to this city.

The Switzerland of South America?

Lonely Planet describes Uruguay as the Switzerland of South America. The city is clean and tidy, greenery is everywhere, and it feels both classical and modern. There really is a bit of Zurich about it.

It wasn’t until I started spending money that I truly believed I had arrived in Switzerland. Uruguay is astonishingly expensive, standing out even within South America. However cheap neighboring Argentina is, that’s how expensive it feels here.

For example, a McDonald’s Big Mac costs 45r. Add fries and it jumps to 65r; throw in a drink and suddenly the total is 75. The Big Mac Index here feels completely off the charts.

A large Starbucks latte costs 50r.

Even a discounted pack of Oreos at the supermarket still costs 35.

A one-way city bus ride costs 15. I honestly didn’t dare try a taxi. Prices are practically keeping pace with New York.

Montevideo is exactly that kind of expert PUA artist: first it lures you in with its stunning coastline, then it ruthlessly “humiliates” you with the prices.

Uruguay is one of the few wealthy, developed countries in South America. Last year, GDP per capita was US$22,000 (ours was US$12,000), more than double the Latin American average.

In fact, it used to be even richer. More than a century ago, this was already an enviably prosperous country, which is why it also built such a beautiful capital.

The industrial shifts after World War II caused this agriculture-based country to stumble, but government economic reforms in the early 20th century helped Uruguay rise again.

Its land area is about the same as Guangdong’s, but the population is only a little over 3 million (versus Guangdong’s 120 million). As long as it doesn’t smash its own rice bowl, it has every chance of living well.

Socially stable and relatively clean in government, Uruguay is a rare breath of fresh air in South America. It has attracted many wealthy Argentines to move money over piece by piece and invest in the country. In that sense, it’s a bit like Singapore, drawing resources away from larger neighboring countries.

It doesn’t rely on printing money, and it has South America’s most complete free healthcare and education systems. People live fairly well here.

Today’s Uruguay is still led by agriculture, and the most eye-catching thing on the streets is the neatly stacked, beautiful fruit.

Although industry is only so-so, the tertiary sector—finance, tourism, and logistics—is quite developed (for example, the richest person is the founder of a fintech company). In that sense, it really is a bit more like Switzerland.

There are two countries in South America with “-guay” in their names. One has no diplomatic relations with us at all, but Uruguay gets along quite well with us. In the suburbs of Montevideo, there is even a place called “People’s Republic of China.” Last year the president also visited China and signed

Hopefully, more beautiful Uruguayan women will come visit China in the future.

Walking the City

Human history has always depended on the nourishment of rivers, lakes, and seas. First-generation great cities were usually built on river plains—places like Chang’an, Baghdad, Cairo, and Paris. Only after the Age of Exploration did some ports gradually rise into second-generation international metropolises, like Shanghai, Hong Kong, New York, and St. Petersburg.

Montevideo is one of those ports.

Thanks to maritime trade, Uruguay once relied on its highly developed livestock industry to accumulate enormous wealth through trade with Europe. There’s even a cow and a horse on the national coat of arms.

During the more than century-long golden age before World War II, cattle-and-horse ranch owners were a bit like the great merchant families of Huizhou, Shanxi, Suzhou, and Hangzhou in China, building lavish mansions in the city.

Walking through Montevideo’s old town today, it still feels like a city full of European charm.

Time and weather have swept the old aristocrats away, and no one knows where they ended up after all their rises and falls. Now those grand villas have become small museums. Some of the displays are simple, but the architecture itself still offers a glimpse of Uruguay’s golden age.

When we tour villas in Montevideo, it feels a little like foreigners going to Shanxi to see the Qiao Family Compound—each side dazzled by the other’s extravagant excess.

As for public buildings, the hotels and theaters are all grand, monumental examples of the Neoclassical revival style from the early 20th century.

The Castle Gate is part of the old city wall. Walk through it, and you enter the Old Town. Most of the old walls have been torn down, leaving only this gate behind. Walking back and forth through it feels like traveling through time—Latin American magical realism in real life.

Uruguayans love drinking mate and dancing tango, and Montevideo feels like a more down-to-earth version of Buenos Aires. In so many ways, they seem just like Argentinians—except that they also speak Portuguese.

In the early Age of Exploration, the two great empires, Spain and Portugal, fought for control of land. The pope once issued a decree that divided the world between Spain and Portugal using a meridian line.

It may sound ignorant and absurd now, but in South America it still carries a trace of significance. To this day, Brazil speaks Portuguese while the other countries speak Spanish, all because of this “Papal Meridian.”

Caught between two major powers, Uruguay has long swung back and forth, absorbing elements from both cultures.

Take soccer, for example.

Soccer

If you love soccer too, Montevideo may well deserve a stop on your football pilgrimage. For one reason above all: this is where the first World Cup was held.

When I first saw the stadium Uruguayans proudly call the “Centenario,” I was a little underwhelmed. It didn’t look all that much better than the stadium where my elementary school used to hold sports day.

Then again, this was a 90,000-seat stadium built in 1930.

What was the rest of the world doing at the time? Europe was barely out of World War I and already drifting toward World War II. North America was in the Great Depression. Asia was in no better shape. Yet Uruguay alone promised to build a brand-new massive stadium and cover the expenses of every participating team. That tells you just how wealthy this place was back then—very much like today’s oil-rich states.

Uruguay won its first World Cup title here, earlier than either of its two giant neighbors.

Nacional and Peñarol are the two powerhouse clubs here. They share this stadium, split the honors between them, and command an overwhelming majority of the fan base. At Nacional’s match that night, almost everyone in sight seemed to be a Nacional supporter. Compared with the mere dozens of away fans, the sense of pressure was absolutely overwhelming.

By the way, the stand here is called the Colombes Stand, named after the place where Uruguay won its first Olympic title.

Luckily, I happened to be wearing a blue jacket that night, and Nacional fans quickly accepted me as one of their own, even slapping a team badge onto my chest.

Compared with other prices, going to a match is pretty cheap entertainment. A standing ticket costs only 80 bucks—about the price of a McDonald’s combo meal. Lots of people brought their kids along too. If soccer starts in childhood, that saying is absolutely true.

Outside the stadium, on every sunny afternoon, children can be seen training under coaches near the Centenario.

A few years from now, the opening match of the centennial World Cup will return to where the dream began. Who knows—maybe one of these kids will become the next Suárez.

Heritage Day

During our weekend in Montevideo, we happened to catch the country’s Heritage Day. Following groups of Uruguayan families, we wandered into museums that were open free of charge.

We kept seeing murals in this style around town. At first I didn’t pay much attention; I just thought the colors were beautiful.

Later, our guesthouse host told us that this was the work of Uruguay’s greatest painter, Joaquín Torres-García. His style is instantly recognizable, the way Qi Baishi is known for painting shrimp or Xu Beihong for painting horses.

The Torres-García Museum ended up being our favorite museum of the weekend.

Do these colors and geometric patterns remind you of Mondrian’s grids or Kandinsky? Well, yes—those two and Torres-García founded a group together called Cercle et Carré, dedicated to abstract art.

Gaudí was also his colleague, and he commissioned Torres-García to design stained glass for Palma Cathedral. From then on, many religious symbols became recurring themes in his paintings.

Do these works look a little like Picasso’s? That makes sense too—he and Picasso were creating around the same time at Els Quatre Gats in Barcelona, and he also exhibited alongside Miró and Dalí.

In short, during that explosive golden age of art, he was running with some of the biggest names around—and became one himself.

Many elements in his paintings—fish, ships, anchors, mate gourds—make me wonder whether they came from his childhood memories of Montevideo.

After leaving the museum, I even felt that the old man downstairs and the fruit shop looked like a world-famous painting. Montevideo scores another point.

Fun fact: if I started digging straight down from Shanghai, by the time I emerged on the other side, I’d end up somewhere close to Montevideo. That’s called a geographical antipode.

About the Author

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