The Charm of Historic Montevideo
Known as an island of stability in a turbulent region, Uruguay was perfect for a last-minute getaway. The Uruguayan capital, Montevideo, may not be Singapore or Reykjavík, but it is by far the safest capital city in South America, if not the most charming one. This metropolis of 1.3 million does not often appear on travelers’ bucket lists. The contrarian within me purposefully chose to visit Montevideo before Buenos Aires. Honestly, part of me was also scared of losing motivation for Montevideo and Uruguay if we had experienced the splendor of the Argentinian capital first.
For our three-night stay in Montevideo, we chose a serviced apartment on the edge of the historic center, or Ciudad Vieja. Like many major cities in South America, Montevideo’s commercial center had shifted away from the historic core. So despite having the highest concentration of historic monuments, the neighborhood is almost devoid of any tourist-class accommodation. That did give me pause and made me wonder if we made the right choice. It was already quite late when we arrived. The streets were largely deserted, but there were at least a few restaurants open until one o'clock.
The Gateway of Ciudadela is considered the symbolic entrance to Old Montevideo.
The next morning, we woke to a city that was eerily quiet for a weekday. The streets may have been empty, with no sign of economic blight. From the apartment, it was only a two-minute walk to Plaza Independencia, the symbolic center of Montevideo. The grand plaza marks the entrance to Old Montevideo and used to be the barbican of the colonial fortress. The old city is situated on a peninsula and was once surrounded by an impressive fortification. The walls, considered a relic of colonial rule, were demolished shortly after Uruguay’s independence to allow urban expansion. The only remnant of the original wall was a reconstructed gate standing at the western end of the plaza.
In the middle of the plaza is a massive equestrian statue of José Gervasio Artigas, the founding father of Uruguay. A former cattle smuggler, Artigas became a brilliant general who fought for the Spanish crown and for the revolutionary government based in Buenos Aires. He eventually became disillusioned with the centralized and authoritarian leaning of Buenos Aires. A fierce advocate of democracy and federalism, Artigas fought for the succession of Banda Oriental, the territory east of the Rio de la Plata, from the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata. His forces faced military pressure from both Buenos Aires and Portuguese Brazil, which ultimately led to his exile to Paraguay. After the independence of Banda Oriental was declared in 1825, Aritgas declined to return from exile, as he regarded the new national government as too centralized and prone to authoritarianism.
Artigas passed away in 1850. According to the legend, he chose to get on a horseback to disappear into the wild in order to die as a gaucho. Although he never lived in an independent Uruguay or held any official post, he has been revered as a vanguard of revolution and a legendary figure above the politics of the modern republic. His ideology, Artiguism, was rooted in the 19th-century Enlightenment and the Constitution of the United States. He advocated not only strict federalism and separation of powers, but also progressive land reform and the guarantee of civil and religious liberty.
Artigas’s political idealism and agrarian spirit made him a popular figure in Uruguay and abroad. He is well regarded not only by Uruguayan nationalists but also by the indigenous people and those who are traditionally marginalized. Today, his statues can be found in numerous countries, including in the vicinity of the White House in Washington, D.C. Under the square’s massive equestrian statue of Artigas is an underground mausoleum. Artigas' body was transferred multiple times to different spots before finding a permanent resting place here in 1977. The brutalist design was a pleasant surprise. Along the walls are enormous signs of different battles and his eventual exile. Two ceremonial guards are permanently stationed beside his funerary urn.
Artigas takes up the prime location on the square, but the most recognizable landmark there, or perhaps in Uruguay, is the imposing Palacio Salvo on the southeastern corner. Completed just before the Great Depression, this eclectic and imposing skyscraper was a symbol of Uruguay’s boom time. For a short period, the building was the tallest in South America, surpassing its twin, Palacio Barolo, in Buenos Aires. The over-the-top decoration is supposedly inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy. The dark and heavy vaulted base is analogous to hell; the building’s “lighthouse” at the top is the architect’s manifestation of heaven.
Because of the financial crash, Palacio Salvo never operated as a hotel as originally intended. It is now a mixed-use property with apartments, offices, and a small observation deck at the top of the tower. We unfortunately did not get a chance to visit the inside, but we did make our daily morning coffee stop at a little cafe in the building. From what I heard, the public opinion is divided about this charismatic landmark. The building’s eccentric style and chronic underutilization made it a blight on the city’s landscape in the eyes of some Uruguayans.
On the north side of the square are two of the country’s most important, but unassuming, buildings. The two-story neoclassical building is Palacio Estevez, the ceremonial seat of Uruguay's executive branch. While the executive office was moved to the adjoining modern office building next door, the palace remains the main ceremonial space for receiving foreign dignitaries and the site of inauguration for new presidents. Despite housing the country’s presidency, the shiny Executive Tower looks just like any other office tower. One would not be able to tell if it were not for a giant decal applied above the entrance. There were no visible security barricades outside, and we were able to just wander into the lobby to use their ATM without any security checks. That really speaks to Uruguay’s political civility and openness.
The window cleaner on Edificio Ciudadela.
Plaza Independencia may be Montevideo’s grandest public space, but it is certainly not the most beautiful. On the western face of the plaza are two ugly and poorly maintained apartment blocks. They may be a blight for a landscape today, but they were once the edifice of modernism, full of optimism. Designed by noted architect Raúl A. Sichero Bouret, the building employed innovative building typologies, such as insulating windows and Le Corbusier's ground-level pilotis. Sadly, the decades of neglect and proliferation of window air conditioners turned this modernist monument into a national embarrassment.
Before heading off into Ciudad Vieja, our final stop at the square is Teatro Solís, the country’s premier performance art venue. Although the building’s facade bears a stylized Sol de Mayo, the theater is named after Juan Díaz de Solís, the first European to land in modern-day Uruguay. According to our guide, the theater’s name, architect, and style all reflect Uruguay’s European heritage and orientation. One of the darkest chapters of this modern utopia was the ethnic cleansing of the indigenous Charruas people. Much like neighboring Argentina, most Uruguayans traced their ancestry to Spain, Italy, Germany, or France.
As the national theater, there were nearly nightly performances. Lucky for us, our visit coincided with a one-night event featuring two of the greatest Tango singers, Uruguay’s Nelson Pino and Argentina’s Ricardo “Chiqui” Pereyra. The sold-out performance was a wonderful introduction to the Uruguayan culture and a chance to take a peek at the theater’s splendid interior. The design is reminiscent of the grand opera houses in Milan and Genoa. For a few hours, I almost forgot that we were in South America.
A Spanish colonial city, Ciudad Vieja was laid out in a grid with a couple of public squares. Aside from a sprinkle of modern buildings, the area retains quite an impressive collection of neoclassical and Art Nouveau architecture. The main street, Sarandí Street, is pedestrianized and is perfect for strolling. The ambiance was calm, and it certainly lacked the hustle and bustle of a metropolis. Other than a McDonald’s and a Starbucks, there were surprisingly few international chain businesses in this touristy area. That said, Montevideo (and Uruguay) hardly suffers from over-tourism.
With its quaint cafes and gentle ambiance, I was surprised that Ciudad Vieja is not more of a draw than the modern section of the city. It actually took me a while to discover why there were so few hotels in Ciudad Vieja. Since so many large businesses have relocated outside the old city, the neighborhood is surprisingly residential, and stores seem to close around mid-afternoon. I can’t help but wonder how the neighborhood could change with the arrival of a single five-star hotel and government promotion. On the other hand, I am not sure the locals would be pleased with gentrification.
A few blocks from the Plaza Independencia is the heart of Ciudad Vieja: Plaza de la Constitución. It was the only square during the colonial period and is surrounded by the most important colonial buildings. On the eastern edge is Montevideo Cabildo, the old city hall. The heavily rusticated building reflects its early colonial heritage; it was probably among the oldest in the city and witnessed many of Uruguay’s most famous events. The most significant among them is the 1830 signing of Uruguay’s first constitution, which was modeled after the American Constitution.
Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, the City Hall was the setting for many decisive political, judicial, and social events. On July 18, 1830, Uruguay’s first Constitution was signed in one of its chambers. At different times, the building served as the seat of the national legislature and as a prison, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and a history museum since 1958. The museum contains a small collection of historical artifacts; the most popular among the visitors is an enormous oil painting of Ciudad Vieja in the colonial era. It gives visitors a bird’s-eye view of colonial Montevideo.
Across the square from the museum is Montevideo Metropolitan Cathedral. Our guide pointed out that the church is noticeably plain in embellishment both inside and out. By the time Montevideo’s building was in full swing, Spain’s colonial empire was already in decline and had far fewer resources for evangelization. It may also be that the indigenous population was already decimated by then; hence, the Catholic church played a much less potent role politically. This may explain why modern Uruguay consistently ranks as the least religious nation in Latin America. The country’s constitution even goes further than the United States’ by proclaiming that religion shall have no involvement in politics.
Less than a block from the church is a public register. During our three-day stay in Montevideo, I witnessed at least half a dozen wedding parties outside the registrar’s door. They don’t seem like the typical city hall wedding in the United States. Rather, there are large wedding parties, cheering the newlyweds as they leave the office. At the risk of generalization, it was apparent to me that many Uruguayans do not see marriage as a civic institution. Uruguay’s strict separation between church and state paved the way for the country’s progressive bent. It has been at the vanguard on issues like marijuana legalization, same-sex marriage, and euthanasia.
Along Sarandí Street, there is plenty of street art and a few community gardens. I noticed a general preference for modern and contemporary art, which I really appreciate. They create a great contrast with the ornate Baroque and Art Deco buildings. Ciudad Vieja is home to a small collection of museums that might be worth visiting for anyone staying for a few days. Of course, the most unique among them is Museo Andes 1972, a boutique museum dedicated to the infamous crash of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571.
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