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It’s unsettling that the end of the world feels like coming home. Settling in the shadow of the Texan behemoth of Argentina, Uruguay is comparatively laid-back and quaint. The skush of the waves against the seawall permeate the Barrio Sur, and throughout the city a graffiti explosion of Frankenstein monsters, Cheshire cats, and Lumière moons wink and smile their colors at you. Humming neon, crumbling paperbacks, monsoon cloudbursts, and countless maté gourds fill your days and haunt your dreams.