The sky remained clear overnight and so both grass and tent were soaked with dew this morning. In the field next to the plantation shelter I'd camped in a tractor had begun work at seven shifting round bales. Although I's well hidden I's apperhencious that the driver may see me leaving when I'd to take time to lift everything over the fence. I don't think he saw me though as I rode away.

The road onwards to Artigas was the now usual rough potholed surface with the additional discomfort of the morning sun being directly in my eyes when cycling in this direction. Meanwhile I thought all morning about the future direction of this cycle-tour eventually before reaching Artigas coming to a decision but as for now I'll keep that decision till myself.

The way into Artigas was a long hill which on creasing the summit another long drag up presented itself. It was now noon and the sun was warm but beyond the next hill there was no more and straight away I saw a kiosk selling fast food where I stopped and order a chivito, which is a steak sandwich here in Uruguay, and a bottle of coke.

I cycled further and asked a street vendor if there was a info centre. She directed me to the house of culture which wasn't much help when I asked where I'd find a hotel. They conferred between themselves before giving me directions to one. I asked was it cheap or dear but it was pointless as they didn't know, so I asked was there a camping site. They said yes, a free municipal camping site, so I followed their directions to it which was down by the bridge across to Brazil.

Down by the bridge there was an info centre meant for people coming in from Brazil where they also gave me a nice tourist map of Rio Grande do Sul, the state on the Brazilian side. But they advised me not to camp as it was dangerous. I thought they're over reacting until I saw the municipal camping site for myself. It was a nice enough green with trees but it was occupied by poor migrants living in plastic shelters builded from whatever scrap that could be salvaged. I sat for a while under a tree, reading my book and looking at the map I'd just received from the info centre, not unpacking anything while I considered what to do next.

It was clear I'd be clean stupid to camp there, so I returned to the info centre as they'd mention another camping site 5 km out off town run by, Club Desportivo Artigas. The woman looked at me with resignation when I returned, 'si male gente' you see bad people she said and preceded to draw a line on the city map to show me the way to the other camping site.

Although a little of a drag out off town it was nice with picnic tables, grass and trees. In the evening there were people playing team games, not the type of people to relieve you of your valuables. The only bad thing that happened was when I's putting up the tent I heard a sudden crack and my little world caved in as a tent pole had snapped. What was I going to do now? ran through my mind. I removed the broken piece by removing the internal elasticated sock cord but as yet have to work out how to tread the cord back through. Though, as the broken piece is only 3cm long I's able to slide the poles together and put the tent up. It will work for a while until I get somewhere where it's possible to get spare poles.

Tue 19th Oct

One big drawback of Club Desportivo Artigas are the dogs at night. There are four resident dogs and last night I'd just gotten to sleep when they began to bark. They barked, barked and barked continually for the best part of two hours or more and all around were echoed by other dogs. As mush as I like dogs there are times when I could kill them because if they're not barking keeping you awake at night, they're running after you barking on the road. While cycling into town yesterday evening, there was a cute little dog, black with brown dashes all over, standing in a bus shelter waiting for a bus I suppose as his bright little eyes looked anxiously out for the next one to appear. I bet this dog was at home last night stretched out with its feet up not keeping people awake barking.

Yet again like other Department Capitals in Uruguay, services that you take for granted in Argentina are non exsistent. There's no place to eat a decent meal as there are no restaurants which also means no place with wifi to sit and up date your journal. There is wifi in the plaza but the signal is so weak and so is ineffective. About the only plus of Uruguay as a cycle-touring destination are the wide paved shoulders on the national roads as everything else is a far cry from Argentina. A few examples are services stations at regular interval with cafeterias which not only serve decent food but have wifi. And of coarse you're spoiled for choice for places to eat in towns and cities.

I got one page of the journal up dated this morning in a Internet cafe before they closed at twelve, then I'd to do a big tour of town to find somewhere to eat. Yesterday evening I did find a cafe with espresso coffee, another rarity here, but when I returned at 1.30 today they'd closed for lunch too. So I's sitting with nothing to do until 2.30 when the Internet cafe opens

I spent three more hours in the Internet cafe in the afternoon, then I's thinking of getting back early to the camping site to do some reading before it got dark when I though I would cook a meal and have some wine with it. So on the way back I planned to stop at a supermercado I'd spotted on the way in in the morning. Outside the supermercado though, I'd to cycle away without going in as there were young boys milling around. One called out to me 'amigo'. Huh, I'm not your friend. 'how mush does your bike cost' he inquired. Alarm bell went inside me and I though 'You think I'm stupid and will leave my bike here with you near it'.

Presently, as I finish off this page it is my last day in Uruguay. Tomorrow I cross into Brazil.

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