We made it to Tacuarembó in Uruguay in record time and were there little over 24 hours after we left Foz in Brazil.
View Tacuarembo in a larger map
If you’re travelling to some of the smaller towns in Argentina the overnight buses seem to just leave you on the highway rather than detour to stop. After hearing this we did our research so we weren’t standing on a highway at 3.00 am and instead were left on a highway at 7.30 am, a slightly more sociable time. When I say on the edge of a highway, I mean literally.
We still had a long way to go and had to find our way to the town of Colon (Argentina) to catch a bus to the Argentina/Uruguay border, catch a bus to Paysandu, then another bus to Tacuarembó. The lady in the Shell station on the highway told us that a bus to Colon went past just before 9.00 am so we sat on the side of the road to wait for a bus that never came. We got fed up waiting and decided to hitch (and noticed with slight annoyance that it wasn’t the folk driving flash utes with loads of space who stopped!). Instead, a very beat up old car stopped and gave us a lift and it turned out the chap was from Uruguay and his daughter (who was in the back with her 1 month old son) had been to NZ last year and was keen to practise her English. These lovely people not only gave us a lift but also went out of their way and took us all the way to the border, which saved us many many hours. We had a long wait for a bus to Tacuarembó but had a look around Paysandu and had fun spotting gauchos heading to the festival. The outfits were wonderful and some were carrying their saddles; something that sparked huge curiosity but we now know that it is a common sight in Uruguay.
Uruguayan people are really friendly and welcoming so it’s not difficult to strike up a conversation, even if you don’t speak the language. I got chatting to two young chaps on the bus, one of who had been to NZ to work on a dairy farm down near Christchurch and had studied English for a month at the university I went to. The great thing about bussing in Uruguay is that if the scheduled bus fills up, they start to fill another for the same time and route. We were on the 3rd bus to Tacuarembo and were starting to understand just how big this festival is. We knew we wouldn’t arrive before 8.30pm and were fully prepared to sleep in a bar or on the street, as we knew accommodation would be all booked out on a Friday night with the main parade on Saturday morning. After being told to go to another town 70km away for accommodation we persevered and, incredibly, got the last room in town, in what could possibly be the worst hotel in town but we really didn’t care. We were shattered.
The next day Euan got well and truly horsed out at the largest (so we found out) gaucho festival in Latin America. I almost felt sorry for him. People had come from all over Uruguay (and outside) to watch and participate and in any European country there would be a myriad horse floats and horse trucks in the area, but not in Tacuarembo. All the thousands of horses here had been herded here on foot from all over Uruguay, with some gauchos being on the road for over 20 days to get their horses here.
View Tacuarembo in a larger map
If you’re travelling to some of the smaller towns in Argentina the overnight buses seem to just leave you on the highway rather than detour to stop. After hearing this we did our research so we weren’t standing on a highway at 3.00 am and instead were left on a highway at 7.30 am, a slightly more sociable time. When I say on the edge of a highway, I mean literally.
We still had a long way to go and had to find our way to the town of Colon (Argentina) to catch a bus to the Argentina/Uruguay border, catch a bus to Paysandu, then another bus to Tacuarembó. The lady in the Shell station on the highway told us that a bus to Colon went past just before 9.00 am so we sat on the side of the road to wait for a bus that never came. We got fed up waiting and decided to hitch (and noticed with slight annoyance that it wasn’t the folk driving flash utes with loads of space who stopped!). Instead, a very beat up old car stopped and gave us a lift and it turned out the chap was from Uruguay and his daughter (who was in the back with her 1 month old son) had been to NZ last year and was keen to practise her English. These lovely people not only gave us a lift but also went out of their way and took us all the way to the border, which saved us many many hours. We had a long wait for a bus to Tacuarembó but had a look around Paysandu and had fun spotting gauchos heading to the festival. The outfits were wonderful and some were carrying their saddles; something that sparked huge curiosity but we now know that it is a common sight in Uruguay.
Uruguayan people are really friendly and welcoming so it’s not difficult to strike up a conversation, even if you don’t speak the language. I got chatting to two young chaps on the bus, one of who had been to NZ to work on a dairy farm down near Christchurch and had studied English for a month at the university I went to. The great thing about bussing in Uruguay is that if the scheduled bus fills up, they start to fill another for the same time and route. We were on the 3rd bus to Tacuarembo and were starting to understand just how big this festival is. We knew we wouldn’t arrive before 8.30pm and were fully prepared to sleep in a bar or on the street, as we knew accommodation would be all booked out on a Friday night with the main parade on Saturday morning. After being told to go to another town 70km away for accommodation we persevered and, incredibly, got the last room in town, in what could possibly be the worst hotel in town but we really didn’t care. We were shattered.
The next day Euan got well and truly horsed out at the largest (so we found out) gaucho festival in Latin America. I almost felt sorry for him. People had come from all over Uruguay (and outside) to watch and participate and in any European country there would be a myriad horse floats and horse trucks in the area, but not in Tacuarembo. All the thousands of horses here had been herded here on foot from all over Uruguay, with some gauchos being on the road for over 20 days to get their horses here.
The parade was a huge deal and people lined the streets a good hour and a half before and we were surprised by the lack of tourists.
These girls had a great spot and were sitting there watching and sipping their maté
The traditional guacho dress was seen everywhere and was worn by young and old alike. We spent a bit of time chatting to the family of this little guy whose mother was riding in the parade. He was very cute and as the parade went past
his Mum lifted him up onto her horse and off he went
Whole families were dressed up and looked really smart.
Different areas from all over Uruguay were represented and it was estimated that there were more than 5000 horses in the parade, most of them with riders but some were harnessed to carts
and others were ridden by small kids. The young boys in particular took it very seriously.
The girls were a bit more gung-ho about it.
I like this shot for the pink candyfloss and the pink dress.
but the dresses were all quite stunning and provided a great contrast to the browns and greens of the male gauchos
There were three small groups of loose horses that were following a rider and a head mare.
and this little lady was worn out already and had fallen asleep!
Then along came this chap who looked amazing but so out of place at the same time. Apparently this chap is Charrúa, one of the indigenous people of southern America (from the area now known as Uruguay, north-eastern Argentina and southern Brasil). He is apparently one of the last remaining Charrúa in Uruguay and participates in the parade every year.
At the time, I was only taking photos of him and didn’t notice the look on the little boys face that was riding beside him. He’s like “what the….?”.
There were some characters among the riders....
These girls had a great spot and were sitting there watching and sipping their maté
The traditional guacho dress was seen everywhere and was worn by young and old alike. We spent a bit of time chatting to the family of this little guy whose mother was riding in the parade. He was very cute and as the parade went past
his Mum lifted him up onto her horse and off he went
Whole families were dressed up and looked really smart.
Different areas from all over Uruguay were represented and it was estimated that there were more than 5000 horses in the parade, most of them with riders but some were harnessed to carts
and others were ridden by small kids. The young boys in particular took it very seriously.
The girls were a bit more gung-ho about it.
I like this shot for the pink candyfloss and the pink dress.
but the dresses were all quite stunning and provided a great contrast to the browns and greens of the male gauchos
There were three small groups of loose horses that were following a rider and a head mare.
and this little lady was worn out already and had fallen asleep!
Then along came this chap who looked amazing but so out of place at the same time. Apparently this chap is Charrúa, one of the indigenous people of southern America (from the area now known as Uruguay, north-eastern Argentina and southern Brasil). He is apparently one of the last remaining Charrúa in Uruguay and participates in the parade every year.
At the time, I was only taking photos of him and didn’t notice the look on the little boys face that was riding beside him. He’s like “what the….?”.
There were some characters among the riders....
This jingling mass of bells, tassels and studded leather came stomping along and underneath all this was a huge draft horse built like a tank.
This parade went on for about 1 ½ hours with horses streaming down the main street of Tacuarembo. Euans eyes glazed over after about an hour and even I was amazed at the sheer number of horses that were there. I found out later that, if you like a horse, you can approach the gaucho in the parade and offer to buy it. Apparently quite a few horses change hands in this manner and I’m damn glad I didn’t know this at the time! I could have found myself in a bit of trouble.
Just out of town, on the way to where the real action took place, some gauchos were taking a pit stop, having a few beers and their horses were tied to the railings.
The scene that greeted us when we reached the area that hosted the main events was one of colourful tents, horses milling everywhere and the air smoky from the many grills that were going full tilt. This grill was doing a roaring trade
and even had more live meat ready, with this sheep tied to a post and his buddy already roped up under a tree for when the meat on the grill was running low.
The rodeo itself was different to those we’d seen before and the event we watched followed a similar sequence to the bronc riding but a difference was that an unbroken horse was brought over from one of the corrals that held hundreds of horses
and the unsuspecting horse was tied up short to a post and blindfolded. Some of them stood quietly
but others went a bit nuts.
Then the horse was saddled and a gaucho got on its back before the blindfold was whipped off
and the horse invariably went berserk. There is just so much going on in this photo. The horse went behind the posts to where all the other gauchos were sitting, bucking and lashing out left right and centre. There was a mad scramble to get out of the way and the horse ended up on its side, wedged in the ditch by the fence.
It was all rather raw and at times difficult to watch.
As far as I could see, the main difference to the western style of rodeo riding was that the horses were actively trying to get rid of the rider and the bit, rather than objecting to a strap that is tightened around their flanks.
Outside the main arena there was a more peaceful scene with young gauchos, worn out from the excitement, snatching a sleep on piles of blankets
and others riding along chatting (check out the guy kneeling on his horse, using it as a viewpoint in the background).
The older gauchos stood around, drinking maté or beer, smoking and chewing the fat.
As we walked back into town we saw a herd of the horses being taken to the river to drink.
We were picked up that evening to head out of town to stay at a working estancia that a friend of mine had stayed at and told me about. To visit this place is the main reason why we’d taken the long haul south and back into Uruguay.
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