Christmas del Diablo

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The idea was to find somewhere quiet on a nice beach to spend Christmas, preferably in an apartment or cabin so we could do our own cooking. Punta del Diablo seemed to fit the bill.

It is a small fishing village that has grown into a very laid back holiday town. The beaches are beautiful and huge. I presume it gets the name Devil´s Point from the fierce Atlantic Ocean and the weather that blows accross the town with determination.

It really is a town on the sand dunes. I actually saw some dunes with 'For Sale' signs poking out of them. Some houses are modern and architect designed but most are  cabañas (cabins) that have been built in a ramshackle fashion by the owners themselves. The town centre is like a dusty wild west outpost, albeit one with a great bakery and supermarkets selling champagne and of course, lots of meat for barbecues. We actually arrived with Father Christmas on the coach. Well, he got on a few stops before the main bus stop and sort of got dressed on the coach.

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We rented an apartment which was really a converted garage. The beauty was that the big house above us was empty and we could use their huge deck and barecue for the entire stay. There was cable TV as well, so Richard could watch all the boxing day football he wanted.I t was pretty basic, bare concrete floors and walls from the kitchen to the shower, but comfy enough. There was a little camping stove with gas bottles but we did have a massive fridge.

The lovely old guy next door lived in a corrugated iron and wood shack. His front garden, however, was full of blooming hisbiscus and laid with green grass. He also had a little altar with a statue of a knight on a horse (maybe St George), enclosed in a glass case.

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Christmas day started with a blustery rain storm. I was a solitary cagouled figure walking along the beach. After midday the sun had pushed all of the rain clouds away and we were able to burn ourselves under the blue skies all afternoon, fulfilling our wish to spend Christmas on the beach. Although the shore break was rough, the water was warm and the sand was made of golden coarse shells.

The afternoon was spent preparing the fire for our Christmas barbecue. You can buy bundles of wood at any shop in Uruguay. We had a little help, however, to get the fire started. Señor Next Door turned up with a stack of kindling, newspaper and lighter fluid. We gratefully paid him back with some beer and soon the fire was blazing.

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We had decided to cook jacket potatoes and roast butter nut squash in foil in the coals of the fire. We grilled some onion on kebab sticks and had fresh bread, cheese and tomato and pepper for salad. I had two fat sausages, although I could only fit in one and had to share the other with the local dog who came to watch the ceremony. Christmas dinner was a little charcoaled, to say the least, but we washed it all down with champagne and Christmas cake under the stars.