Loaded up the bike and rode to Piriapolis

Wanting to leave the grind of the city behind I set out on rural roads with two days to live.  The route to Piriapolis was mostly flat and windy but the lack of buildings, taxis and buses was refreshing.  The route darted toward and away from the coast with a background of sand dunes or eucalyptus groves.  Piriapolis was a ghost town, summer visitors yet to arrive.  All the places to stay I had found on the intertubes were boarded up, sleeping on the beach?

Luckily an open Tourist Information Center informed me that most hotels were closed but the hospital had beds to rent and one small hotel, The San Sebastian.  Hoping to dodge a hospital acquired infection the San Sebastian was my first stop.  It is a vintage but well maintained hotel run by an old man with soup on his sweater.  A wooden roll top desk with hand written ledgers provides a modest reception.  The clean dining area with empty tables waited for summer vacationers.  The fireplace mantel had pictures of the owner with his dogs or just his dogs.  He led me through a labyrinth to my simple second floor room with wooden shuttered windows, groovy tile floors and a view of the mountain.  Original in every way, not the homogeneity of American lodging and food options. 

The beach was empty except for a group of old men playing bocci ball, a few dogs chasing each other and a gringo finding peace.