PUNTE Del Este - Holiday stomping ground for the rich, so they say in Uruguay. A quick pit stop before we go and stay with our first host family, wash some clothes, watch some telly and do a bit of social media "surfing" before we head off into the unknown.

What a shithole.

Sorry that's probably a bit harsh. High rises flourish in this area, up and down the beach front, fighting for that perfect view of the beautiful beach.  It's out of season so the buildings stand silently, waiting patiently like seagulls looking out to sea for the surface to move, pointing out a school of fish for feasting on. 

We wander down the beach and happen upon a deserted, run down cafe that's closed, reminiscent of the cafe in The Goonies, forgotten about, battered by the sea breeze.  There's even a black SUV with tinted windows parked outside.

And then it rains.  But not a new, tropical, foreign type rain. It's the same Scottish, miserable dribble that we're so used to. Not quite rain, but enough to make you not want to be outside. We're half way across the world and we've walked into effing Scottish rain. 

The kids, funnily enough, are in their element. They talk about missing Blanket, remembering the walks we used to take on Portobello  beach in Autumn/Winter, cold, wet and not a soul on the beach bar a couple of other lone dog walkers.

Axel spots a dead fish lying on the sand and runs over to it.  This isn't just a fish, it's like a bloody large bass just laying there washed up, no eyes, but everything else in tact. 

And that's the realisation, we're not in Scotland, we're across the world looking out at the South Atlantic Ocean, Antarctica being the next piece of large land mass across the water. 

We have ice cream and head home, wondering what tomorrow will bring us.