What a difference a century makes

In 1965, the population of Uruguay was 2.68 million (current 3.36 million).

Wikipedia: The Executive Tower (Spanish: Torre Ejecutiva) is the official workplace of the President of Uruguay. It is located in front of the Plaza Independencia, in Barrio Centro, Montevideo.

History

The original project was started in 1965 as a future Palace of Justice, but the 1973 coup d’état interrupted it.^[1] By the time the military government ended in 1985, the building was too small for the Uruguayan justice system, so the project remained halted for decades until in March 2006, President Tabaré Vázquez decided to finish the building and use it as an extension of the Estévez Palace.^[2] The President’s offices were transferred there from the Liberty Building in September 2009.

In 1873, the population of Uruguay was around 0.4 million.

Wikipedia: The Estévez Palace (Spanish: Palacio Estévez) is a building situated in Plaza Independencia, Montevideo, Uruguay, designed in a combination of Doric and Colonial styles by Manoel de Castel in 1873. It has served as the working place of the President of Uruguay and has been eventually converted to a museum, housing artifacts and mementos of the Uruguayan presidency and its office holders.

The Palacio Estévez is the little gem to the left in the photo above. Ah, the good old days.

Tupamaros

I recently saw a concrete pad and what looked like a large electrical box and thought The hell? They’re putting up a cell tower in the middle of a high school?

Turns out it wasn’t.

Areiel Arcos Latorre (1950-1973) – Julio Enrique Pagardoy Saquieres (1952 – 1973)

Students of the Atlantida High School. Militants of MLN Tupamaros.

“…and you should know that I only die if you loosen up because he died fighting and he lives in every comrade”.

Looks like a plaque was meant to be installed to the left, or fell off, or something.

And, holding true to much graphic design in Latin America, the plaque telling the story – made from letters cut through rusty steel – is basically illegible.

Here’s the story:

This Saturday 14th, Day of the Student Martyrs, a Memorial in Homage to Ariel Arcos (24 years old) and Enrique Pagardoy (21 years old) (Detained and Disappeared, students of the locality and members of the MLN) was inaugurated.

The initiative arose from a group of neighbors of the area as a symbol of resistance.

The physical space was called “Espacio de la Memoria Luisa Cuesta” (Luisa Cuesta Memory Space) located at Circunvalación Avenue and 30th Street (on the premises of Gimnasio Liceo N°1 Atlántida Gymnasium).

The memorial – made up of old school benches made of iron and a stone with a commemorative plaque – is intended to commemorate these students who disappeared in Chile in 1973, during the civil-military dictatorship that several countries in the region were going through.

In charge of the ribbon cutting was Mrs. Virginia Pagardoy (Enrique Pagardoy’s sister) who resides in Atlantida.

“There is one thing that is clear: hate is like a virus that gets inside and there is a way to fight it that is very simple – also very hard – and that is with love, which is what one breathes here,” said Mayor Yamandú Orsi, referring to the group of neighbors who had the initiative to install the memorial.

“We want this space to be a place of reflection, of contact with this history of resistance of our people, history that like many were silenced during the terror of the dark years.”

“We cannot build a future without memory”; were some of the most significant phrases of a very emotional afternoon.

Source

A bit of Atlántida history

Our normal dog walk cancelled, I took Mocha on the beach all the way into town. There I was reminded of this strange fenced-off footbridge, part of its deck missing.

From the road you can see it through the trees, ending across the road from the iconic (no longer hotel) El Planeta, built in 1939 in six months, offering central heating and hot water throughout. De luxe for 1939 Uruguay!

At the far end of the footbridge there’s a pile of branches, and it’s again fenced off.

You can see how close it is to the road (and you can see that, in 2015 per Google Street View, you could freely access the bridge, which never occurred to me). So why would someone choose the footbridge instead of just using the road?

Which gave me an idea.

What if the road was added later? The red line represents the footbridge. From above, the amphitheater looks a lot like a dam. And there’s apparently (I have never noticed it) a huge drain, and signs of drainage onto the beach (arrows).

[Update: I did go back and explore the tunnel]

Later—more time later than I’d like to admit—I found a diagram of a proposed harbor that was never built.

And there I spotted a break in the Rambla (beachfront road). Notice how there is no Rambla above the arrow.

And here—ta da!—is an aerial photo from 1950 confirming it. Mystery solved!

Some Atlántida architecture and history

It was a beautiful day Monday for taking pictures.

Atlántida started in 1911 as a summer playground for wealthy Montevideans, and the architecture reflects that.

map

Along the Rambla La Mansa:

House in Atlántida, Uruguay

There are a number of whimsical houses, including this one that I’ve never seen occupied on the Rambla La Brava:

map

House in Atlántida, Uruguay

And then there’s Edificio El Planeta.

map

First, a quick Spanish lesson: el planeta means the planet, and it seems like it should be la planeta. There a few Spanish words that don’t play well with rules.

Built in the 1930s in just one year (did Uruguayans once work fast?), it served as Planeta Palace Hotel until 1954. It looks like a ship preparing to steam out to sea, and was very fancy in its day, with private baths, hot water, and heating (heating? In Uruguay?). After the hotel’s closure, it was divided and sold as propiedad horizontal (i.e., condos). It was declared a national historical monument in 2005.

El Planeta, Atlántida, Uruguay

The art gallery

We normally don’t spend a lot of time in art galleries.

Contemporary ceramics on display, Montevideo, Uruguay

Yesterday was an exception.

Contemporary ceramics on display, Montevideo, Uruguay

The current show features five contemporary ceramic artists,

Contemporary ceramics on display, Montevideo, Uruguay

each with a unique “voice,” as the introduction states.

each with a unique “voice,” as the introduction stated.

The gallery has a skylight, which casts dramatic shadows.

Mexican Embassy, Montevideo, Uruguay

The setting, an old building with exposed brick and very old beams, is quite lovely. Not a bad place to spend an hour when you have no choice.

And we had no choice. We were waiting for legal papers. Specifically, a power of attorney to sell some property in Mexico.

What’s that got to do with an art gallery?

All the pictures above are from the ground floor of the Mexican Embassy in Montevideo. When we arrived, the receptionist remember who we were, and why we were there. The consul was gracious and welcoming.

Mexican Embassy, Montevideo — The Mexican Embassy in Montevideo: warm and welcoming.

Now, I have nothing bad to say about the US Embassy personnel in Montevideo. They were in fact surprisingly accommodating when I recently renewed my passport.

US Embassy, Montevideo — US Embassy in Montevideo. Not warm and welcoming.

But one can’t help but notice the contrast, even without surrendering all personal possessions and passing through several bomb-proof doors for the privilege of entering.

Construction symbolically started on July 4, 1966. US Independence day. At that time, the diplomatic pouch from Washington, DC, sometimes included fine wires that could be inserted between teeth, in order to apply an electrical charge to the gums. No, it wasn’t for oral hygiene.

Not a pleasant story, but essential reading: Uruguay, 1964 to 1970: Torture—as American as apple pie.