Uruguayans are known for their nostalgia, and nestled between the charismatic Brazil and the forever dramatic Argentina, they are quick to tell visitors that they are most pessimistic of the three. Although, in my experience, Uruguayans have been nothing but warm, generous hosts, it doesn’t take much effort for visitors to uncover this society’s nostalgia for better days. In fact, it’s been the inspiration for some of the country’s best tangos, less spectacular than the Argentine version, which has conformed to the taste of tourists and the country’s upper class over the years, and shapes the self-deprecating, ironic humor typical of the murgas performance during carnival.
As I wandered the streets of Ciudad vieja, or the “Old City,” last Sunday, I was reminded of this country’s bittersweet embrace of the past. It occurred to me that, as well as being the symbolic heart of Montevideo and the original city, Ciudad vieja is itself the materialization of Uruguayan nostalgia. Its cobblestone streets and colonial homes, ornate fountains and wrought-iron fences are the remaining physical vestiges of Uruguay’s past, which give spatially intelligible dimensions to this country’s near-constant wistfulness.
Although the Portuguese (obtaining the territory in the Tordesillas Treaty of 1494) claim to have settled first what now is Montevideo, the city only really began to take shape when the governor of Buenos Aires founded a military base there in 1726. The city soon grew beyond the limits of its barrier wall, which stood erect until 1829, preventing possible invasions by the Portuguese. Of the original wall, only the gateway remains, inviting city dwellers and visitors to cross the threshold to Montevideo’s past.
As the sole slave port in the region, the young Montevideo only continued to expand and prosper economically. In more recent years, however, political instability, periodic economic stagnation, and the catastrophic bank crisis of 2002, have caused this part of the city to fall into virtual disrepair. Somewhat paradoxically, Ciudad vieja now serves as a destination for both tourists (largely because of its proximity to the port) and migrants from the country’s rural interior.
Although the Uruguayan government is attempting to revitalize Ciudad vieja, many of its buildings appear beyond the point of repair. This is not to say, however, that this part of the city lacks signs of life. On the contrary, children play among the rubble of Ciudad vieja’s fallen buildings, while couples sit quietly in its parks; small shops and even modern nightclubs are springing up among the ruins of this urban landscape. And although Ciudad vieja may no longer represent the center of daily life in Montevideo, it does serve as a physical testament to this small country’s illustrious past and the root of its nostalgia.
As I wandered the streets of Ciudad vieja, or the “Old City,” last Sunday, I was reminded of this country’s bittersweet embrace of the past. It occurred to me that, as well as being the symbolic heart of Montevideo and the original city, Ciudad vieja is itself the materialization of Uruguayan nostalgia. Its cobblestone streets and colonial homes, ornate fountains and wrought-iron fences are the remaining physical vestiges of Uruguay’s past, which give spatially intelligible dimensions to this country’s near-constant wistfulness.
Although the Portuguese (obtaining the territory in the Tordesillas Treaty of 1494) claim to have settled first what now is Montevideo, the city only really began to take shape when the governor of Buenos Aires founded a military base there in 1726. The city soon grew beyond the limits of its barrier wall, which stood erect until 1829, preventing possible invasions by the Portuguese. Of the original wall, only the gateway remains, inviting city dwellers and visitors to cross the threshold to Montevideo’s past.
As the sole slave port in the region, the young Montevideo only continued to expand and prosper economically. In more recent years, however, political instability, periodic economic stagnation, and the catastrophic bank crisis of 2002, have caused this part of the city to fall into virtual disrepair. Somewhat paradoxically, Ciudad vieja now serves as a destination for both tourists (largely because of its proximity to the port) and migrants from the country’s rural interior.
Although the Uruguayan government is attempting to revitalize Ciudad vieja, many of its buildings appear beyond the point of repair. This is not to say, however, that this part of the city lacks signs of life. On the contrary, children play among the rubble of Ciudad vieja’s fallen buildings, while couples sit quietly in its parks; small shops and even modern nightclubs are springing up among the ruins of this urban landscape. And although Ciudad vieja may no longer represent the center of daily life in Montevideo, it does serve as a physical testament to this small country’s illustrious past and the root of its nostalgia.
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